


Reaching For The Stars

by Useless19



Series: Getting Over It [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: (about vehicons and predacons), A Sparkling Is Put In Mild Peril But Is Never Actually Hurt, Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Getting Back Together, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Off-screen Surgery, Parental Imposter Syndrome, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings, short discussion of infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-10-14 13:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 50,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless19/pseuds/Useless19
Summary: Knock Out struggles with the consequences of several rounds of unprotected interface, while Megatron struggles to reconcile his unwanted new frame. Oh, and neither of them can take a step without tripping over a meddling Autobot or three.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts during _Deadlock_.

Trying to find a clear route to the escape pods was like trying to find a working sparkplug in a human junkyard: impossible. Knock Out backed around the corner he'd just crept around to avoid yet another skirmish.

He could've sworn there weren't enough Autobots on Earth to be causing this much of a ruckus.

Tightening his grip on his buffer, Knock Out ducked down another corridor. This one was clear, but the sound of combat was getting closer. He'd have to be quick.

Nerves were sitting uncomfortably in Knock Out's chassis, like sparkburn. It was distracting.

If he just knew who'd win, it would make things so much easier. Should he try to sneak his way to the medbay and pretend to have been preparing for injured Decepticons the whole time? Or would the escape pods be the better bet after all? Megatron and Starscream had taken down Predaking easily, but every single Autobot was part of this attack and it had never boded well for Knock Out when they came out in full force.

The stupid part of Knock Out’s processor that always came up with bad ideas wanted to go and find Megatron. He shut that down hard. Megatron would be found where the fighting was thickest and Knock Out didn’t want to get into combat. It was feeling a bit all or nothing today and he _really_ didn’t want to have his spark extinguished.

The burn in his chest got more intense, as though he'd somehow taken a shot without noticing. Something was wrong. Knock Out ducked into a supply room and ran a self-diagnostic. Then he ran it again.

No.

Impossible.

It couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be spar—

_No_.

His transformations had been stiff recently for a completely unrelated reason. His fuel tank tender due to Earth’s poor quality energon deposits, that was all.

Knock Out — just like every other member of the Decepticon army, Megatron included — had the neat little string of code uploaded to make him sterile until he chose to remove it. There wasn’t any way this could have happened.

He couldn't be _sparked_.

Though… Megatron had been clinically dead for a while, maybe that had been enough to reset his systems to factory default and _that_ had been enough to convince Knock Out’s gestation protocols to re-engage once enough active transfluid had been spilt inside him.

Still, Knock Out couldn’t be sparked. He couldn’t.

Not here. Not _now_.

And _not_ with _Megatron’s_ offspring.

That settled things. The Decepticons had better win this fight because, short of a direct order from Primus himself, the Autobots wouldn’t let a newspark of Megatron’s coding live.

Knock Out closed his optics and ran through several ventilation cycles before he dared open them again.

_Think_. Say it _was_ a sparkling. If there was this much burning then emergence was soon — though Knock Out didn’t know how he _hadn’t noticed_ he was carrying until the emergence was upon him — and he’d have to deal with that. Somehow. It wasn’t exactly an area he’d specialised in when learning how to make repairs.

There was no chance in the Unmaker’s Pit that Knock Out had been keeping up with the — frankly absurd — energon and mineral demands a gestating protoform required; high-grade and a penchant for haematite crunches only got you so far. Thankfully science had progressed since the uncivilised days of primitive Cybertronians and there were ways around that.

And, as luck would have it, Knock Out found himself in one of the better-stocked store cupboards.

_There!_

Protometal hung out from the top shelf. In sheets and… _yes_, in liquid form too.

Knock Out pulled over an empty crate and still had to stretch on the tips of his pedes to reach. Whose bright idea had it been to make the blasted ship so big?

The liquid protometal shone a dull gold. It brightened slightly when Knock Out shook the jar. Still active then, if only a little. Hopefully, it would be enough to make up for all the transfluid his gestation chamber _hadn’t_ been getting during the last month or so of the newspark’s development.

Knock Out shut off his taste sensors and threw the whole bottle back. Protometal coated his glossa unpleasantly, somehow even worse than transfluid. Knock Out gagged, but managed to keep it down.

He was _never_ drinking that again.

The burn at his spark receded. Knock Out ex-vented in relief. The medbay was one floor up, he could get there and he’d have all his equipment at his disposal. Going through an emergence solo wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t like there was anyone to go up to and _ask_ for help. The Vehicons were either fighting or fleeing and Knock Out didn’t trust the rest of Decepticon high command or the Autobots to _not_ choose to battle to the death over being a medical assistant.

Shame the polite Autobot medic was probably dead.

Pain shot through his spark.

_Ouch_.

Okay, no, the medbay was looking an awfully long way off. This storage cupboard would have to do.

Energon was oozing from the seam of his chest plates, one of the later indicators that emergence was about to begin. That was going to be difficult to clean off later, energon always left a stain.

Slowly, Knock Out transformed his plating out of the way, exposing his spark chamber. The newspark glowed bright, static electric tendrils buzzing around it as it orbited Knock Out’s steadier, mature spark. His gestation tank was flush with the bottom of his spark chamber now too. Any moment the newspark would untether entirely and the gestation chamber would open, then spark would meet frame and a functioning bot would emerge into the world.

Simple, right?

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Knock Out had thoroughly exhausted all the swear words he knew and was making up new ones with wild abandon.

The newspark had untethered and Knock Out's gestation chamber had cracked open to accept it, but the newspark was showing all the willingness to go along with what _should_ be done as its lugnuts-for-a-processor sire. It flitted around Knock Out's spark chamber like it had all the time in the world and it _wasn't_ causing it's poor carrier shooting pains whenever it brushed the flaring corona of his spark.

Megatron did manage to make life difficult in constantly unexpected ways, it figured his offspring would do the same.

Knock Out felt the urge to go find Megatron again, half-engaged protocols nudging him to be close to the newspark’s sire in this tumultuous time. He shut them down as hard as he could. Frontline battle was no place to have an emergence.

Whether because of Knock Out’s lapse in attention, or the thoughts he’d been having of its sire, the newspark finally drifted down and followed the funnelled grooves on the chamber walls to disappear into Knock Out’s gestation tank. His spark felt oddly cold now it was alone.

A tiny _whirr_ of transformation echoed in the cupboard. That would be the protoform accepting the spark. Knock Out ex-vented in sharp relief.

Then his gestation chamber fully split open, shoving organs and plating out of the way without care and nearly rupturing his fuel tank. Warnings that half his systems were critical and the other half were offline blinded Knock Out. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He'd been _stabbed_ before and it hadn't hurt this much.

He barely had the presence of processor to catch the shimmery little newspark as it slipped from his frame.

Pinprick red optics stared up at Knock Out and a short burble of static nonsense emitted from a half-built vocaliser.

It was alive.

He’d done it.

It hurt like Prime had punched him through the planet, but Knock Out had successfully delivered his own newspark — all by himself.

Knock Out held the fragile newspark close to his torn up chassis. It barely had enough materials stolen from Knock Out himself and its sire's transfluid donations to shield the tiny flickering spark.

He'd drunk that foul liquid protometal for no reason. _Urgh_.

Knock Out fumbled the sheets of protometal into a rough pile on the floor with one shaking servo. They were discoloured at the edges. Earth had some wonderful car designers, but its tendency towards oxidising every metal within its damp atmosphere was unpleasant.

There were whole programs dedicated to the art of wrapping newsparks in the perfect protometal bundle. Knock Out didn’t have any of them installed — why would he? A basic bit of advice he could dredge up from old, dusty memory files was something about only letting the newspark absorb one sheet at a time, to prevent having to perform surgery to remove unused bits of protometal.

Surely it wouldn’t be a problem, in this case, to use it all at once? There weren’t many sheets and — given the sire — the sparkling was probably going to be a big one.

Knock Out laid the tiny, fragile newspark on the layers of protometal and carefully tucked in the corners around it. It gave a static-filled buzz and wriggled, protometal already sticking to its tiny stumps of limbs and starting to give it more shape and weight.

Good. That was good.

Knock Out picked up the bundle of newspark and protometal, finally letting his ventilation cycle lengthen and relax. Whichever side had won the fight, he was going to be okay. Megatron wouldn’t disregard his heir and the Autobots were too soft sparked to even _think_ of harming a newspark, Megatron’s coding or not.

Satisfied, Knock Out levered himself up using the cupboard wall, then held his bundle closer and set off for the bridge.

* * *

Cybertron reborn. It was breathtaking. Knock Out almost didn’t regret the Autobot victory.

He squashed the freshly sentimental part of his spark that had wanted to present the newspark to Megatron.

"It appears you need a medic on your winning team," Knock Out said, striding toward the group of Autobots gathered on the bridge.

Hmm, no sign of Prime. Not as complete an Autobot victory as it could have been.

"Miko! No!" Bulkhead grabbed — was that one of their pet humans in the Apex Armour? had Starscream whined about that before? — Miko before she could land a punch.

Good. Knock Out was a stiff breeze away from collapsing and a punch to the faceplates could've damaged more than just his looks right now.

"Let me at him, Bulk!" Miko shouted.

"Is that a newspark?" Arcee asked. "Good eye, Bulkhead."

The human stopped fighting. "A what?"

"A baby," Bumblebee said — when had he gotten his voicebox fixed? "Did you steal it?"

"Of course I did because there's a massive surplus of sparklings." Knock Out rolled his optics. "It’s mine, you idiot."

"Wait," that was another of the humans, there were more of them on the bridge than Knock Out had first realised, "a baby? Like produced through —" he glanced awkwardly at the smallest human, "— two adults having, uh… doing, uh —"

"I know how babies are made, Jack," the smallest human said, exasperated.

"Medical regulations state that newsparks and their carriers must be inspected by a qualified medical professional." Ultra Magnus raised his servo to activate his comm. "Ratchet, your services are required in the medical bay."

"I’m a medic! And I say we’re fine," Knock Out snapped.

The newspark gave a soft cry, vivid red optics blinking open and staring at the gathered Autobots.

"Aww," went Bulkhead and Smokescreen.

"You are not on the registered list of known medical professionals —"

"And you wonder why there was a war to begin with," Knock Out muttered.

"— furthermore as the carrier you are exempt from performing the role," Ultra Magnus finished.

"_Fine_."

"I’m still confused about who the mom is," Jack said, in what was probably meant to be a quiet aside to Arcee.

"For simplicity’s sake, Knock Out is," Arcee said. "I can’t believe we didn’t notice he was carrying all this time."

"That… doesn’t really answer anything."

Arcee looked like she had a processor ache oncoming as all the humans crowded her for answers.

Bumblebee took Knock Out's arm and led him toward the door.

"I'll escort you to the medbay," he said, probably as much for Ultra Magnus's sake as Knock Out's.

They left the bridge. Miko's shriek followed them out.

"You can do _both?!_ You mean we could've had cute little 'Bot babies running round the place the whole time you were living on Earth?!"

Knock Out was glad to be away from _that_ mess. From the way Bumblebee sped up, so was he.

"So what happened to the rest of the officers?" Knock Out asked.

Soundwave wouldn’t have let the Autobots take the bridge if they hadn’t taken him out first. Megatron tended to be too dramatic for his own good and would’ve _destroyed_ half the ship before giving it up if he was still online. Shockwave probably would’ve escaped at a logical time, but he didn’t have an aerial vehicle mode to rely on, so how that went for him was up in the air. And Knock Out would’ve been able to _hear_ it if they’d captured Starscream.

"Megatron’s dead," Bumblebee said. "Put the Star Sabre through his spark myself."

"Oh. Good for you," Knock Out managed through the churning of his tanks.

_Scrap_, he wasn’t that attached to Megatron, was he? It was just the newspark, obviously. This was the time after emergence when any normal carrier would be relying on the newspark’s sire to take over the majority of sparkling care while the carrier healed. It was just old protocols messing with Knock Out’s emotional processes.

He tried to shut them off, but they resisted, the code deeper entrenched than his distracted, half-broken state could edit.

Something to do later, once the damage from the emergence was fixed.

* * *

The newspark was curled up in an empty storage box. Ratchet had tutted over Knock Out's attempt at a protometal swaddle, but in the end, he’d had to trim less than a kilogram of unabsorbed protometal from the ends of its legs. Then he’d given it some unrefined low-grade energon to chew on, to both keep it distracted and let it fill its tanks properly for the first time.

Now, bright, red optics were staring at the glinting edges of medical tools overhanging the table, as the newspark dribbled around its energon lump.

Knock Out, on the other hand, was glaring at the _hack_ that called himself the Autobot’s medic as he rearranged Knock Out's internals.

"That's _meant_ to go there!"

"Oh really?" Ratchet glared right back and didn’t stop misaligning components. "Have you ever dealt with an emergence before?"

Knock Out hadn’t. But —

"I know where _my own internal organs_ are meant to go!"

"And if you put them right back without compensating for the newspark’s material theft you will only damage yourself further — especially if you try to transform anytime soon. Now be quiet or I'll put you into stasis — like I should have already done!"

"So I can wake up modified into something ugly? Like you?"

Ratchet put down his tools to rub his optics in exasperation. If he hadn’t kept the Autobots up and running with nothing but low-grade and prayers to Primus for centuries, Knock Out would’ve already seen him out of the medbay. As much as he hated to admit it, Ratchet knew what he was doing.

"Do you know who the sire is?" Ratchet asked, leaving Knock Out’s fresh welds to cool for a moment to input glyphs into a dataslate. "For medical purposes," he added when Knock Out glared at him again.

"Dreadwing."

That should line up for timing and explain the size of the newspark relative to Knock Out. Plus Dreadwing couldn’t exactly say otherwise and it wasn’t like Autobots could tell one flier from another if the sparkling came into wings later in its functioning.

They were much more likely to look kindly on Dreadwing's spawn.

"Right, hold still." Ratchet transformed out his welder again. "There's still a lot to do."

* * *

The rest of the Autobots were waiting in the corridor outside the medbay and all looked up eagerly when Knock Out emerged holding the newspark.

It had been a while since Knock Out had last heard of a newspark being brought to function among the Decepticon ranks, it seemed the Autobots were not only in the same boat but also just as pathetically smitten over sparklings as their soft sparked reputation made them out to be.

"Is it a racer?" Smokescreen asked, practically hopping in place with excitement.

As though that was the signal the rest had been waiting for, everyone started asking questions at once.

"Who’s the sire?"

"Is that really a baby ‘Con?"

"Has it said anything yet?"

"Can it transform?"

"Any idea what its vehicle mode will be?"

Ratchet answered most of the questions for Knock Out; much more used to dealing with this rambunctious ramble and not fresh out of post-emergence surgery.

"May I?" Prime asked, holding out his servos.

It wasn’t really a question, but at least Prime wouldn’t drop the newspark on purpose.

Hopefully.

Knock Out handed his sparkling over. He looked even tinier in Prime’s huge servos. Prime lifted him up to optic level, a soft smile on his face.

"He takes after you," Prime said.

"Yeah, not a trace of flyer on him," Smokescreen added, upon the tips of his pedes to peer at the sparkling in Prime’s grasp.

"Obviously wheels are far superior," Knock Out said.

"Of course," Prime said, with a significant look as he readjusted the newspark.

_Frag_. Did he _know?_

What would Prime expect from Knock Out for his silence? There were always jokes about how Primes don’t party and maybe Prime would loosen up if he ever got some, but were those _just_ jokes? Was Prime going to expect Knock Out to crawl into his berth? For how long?

And what was Knock Out supposed to do with the newspark while Prime was having his way with him?

"Can I hold him too?" Miko asked, still encased in the Apex Armour.

"‘Bots first," Arcee said, accepting the newspark from Prime. "Wow, look at those denta. You’re gonna take someone’s digit off, aren’t you, little guy."

She passed him to Bumblebee after one last coo. She didn't support the newspark's helm during the handover and Bumblebee's servos were filthy.

Knock Out was getting antsy. The Autobots were being _careless_ with the newspark. Ratchet had been bad enough and he at least had a medic's steady servo.

They were going to drop him, Knock Out knew it.

"That's enough," Knock Out said, holding out his servos to take back the newspark from Bumblebee, before he could be passed to Smokescreen.

"Aww. Let me hold him," Smokescreen whined.

"_No!_" Knock Out snapped.

"Don't get snippy, 'Con," Arcee said warningly.

"Bumblebee, return Knock Out's newspark," Prime said.

And that was the end of the matter. The newspark dribbled oral lubricant on the inside of Knock Out's door as he held him close.

Knock Out's rearranged internal organs were making him shaky. That was the reason he couldn’t bear the thought of the newspark in Autobot servos any longer. It was only natural to hold a bit of fondness for the only link he’d be allowed to keep to his past as a Decepticon.

Not that it mattered.

It _didn’t_ matter.

The Decepticons were over, dead with Megatron, and Knock Out should be looking towards his own future. The only thing the newspark was good for was lowering the Autobots’ guards to help Knock Out avoid imprisonment or worse.

He shivered, fuel pump still tender from the emergence.

"Come on," Ratchet said gruffly, catching Knock Out’s elbow and leading him away from the gathering. "Let’s get you and the newspark set up in your room. Ultra Magnus has taken out anything dangerous and Wheeljack's put together a newspark-sized berth for the little one."

* * *

The newspark wailed.

And wailed.

Then shrieked for good measure.

He'd recharged to Ratchet's satisfaction while Knock Out was under the blowtorch and had just refused another glob of semi-solid energon, so what he was wailing about now, Knock Out had no idea. In desperation, Knock Out flashed his headlights. Newsparks liked loud noises and flashing lights, didn't they?

This one did. He stopped screaming and stared at Knock Out's headlights in awe. Tiny digits scraped over the plexiglass, thankfully still too soft to leave scratches.

Ratchet slapped a servo over Knock Out's chassis, hiding the flashing lights.

"You'll damage his optics!"

"He's damaging my audials!" Knock Out snapped back.

The newspark whimpered. It's wide, lubricant-coated optics melted Ratchet's gruff exterior, Decepticon-red though they were.

"Just… no high-beams," he sighed.

Knock Out petulantly put on his indicators, grinning nastily when Ratchet's optic twitched at the clicking noise. The newspark grabbed at the flashing orange lights with glee, emitting a sharp burble of static from its vocaliser.

"I think I’ll call him Flash." Knock Out said.

Ratchet sighed again. "There have been worse reasons for designations."

"It’s a perfectly good name for a racer," Knock Out said.

"Cars tend to be lighter," Ratchet said. "His current weight means he's probably a jet, like his sire, or maybe a truck."

"You take that back," Knock Out hissed. "No sparkling of mine is going to be a flatbeded slowmobile!"

"You don’t get a choice in the matter, it’s up to him and his code," Ratchet said patronisingly, as though Knock Out didn’t already know that. "Now, are you sure you’re going to be able to keep the sparkling alive and healthy while I’m on Earth?"

"He’ll be fine," Knock Out said. "I kept _Starscream_ alive, didn’t I?"

"Much to our regret."

* * *

Later that night, Knock Out readjusted his bundle and rapped on the door to the room Prime had taken: Megatron’s room. Knock Out tried not to think about the last time he’d been allowed inside.

"Knock Out?" Prime looked like he’d been in recharge. "Can I help you? Is it the newspark?"

"Aren’t you going to let us in?" Knock Out glanced up and down the corridor. No one else was around, but that would change quickly if Flash woke up and started howling.

Technically, Knock Out wasn’t meant to be outside of his room, but if the Autobots had really wanted to keep him locked in they would’ve revoked his security access by now.

Prime stepped to one side and let Knock Out scurry in. He’d done some redecorating — none of the Autobot weapons were on the wall anymore — the berth was still the same though. Knock Out recognised some of the scratches that he’d put there, Megatron mustn't have gotten around to buffing them out before he was killed, and Knock Out’s finish _crawled_ as he considered what he was about to do.

"Do you have somewhere I can put him down?" Knock Out asked.

Prime looked at them in sleepy confusion.

"Will the berth be suitable?"

Okay, that was slightly better. Flash could recharge on the berth and Prime could frag Knock Out against the wall or in the washracks. Knock Out set Flash down in the middle of the berth and fussed with his insulation blanket until he'd plucked up the courage to turn around and give Prime a seductive smile.

"So, big guy, where do you want me?"

Prime blinked, poleaxed. "What?"

"Come on, Prime. _Optimus_." Knock Out moved closer until he was in touching range. "You know why I’m here."

Prime took a step back.

"I’m afraid I do not."

This wasn’t going how Knock Out had expected at all. Maybe Prime wanted a more direct approach, wanted to make Knock Out work for it.

"Why else would I be here at this time of night?" Knock Out stepped forward and placed his hand on Prime’s panel. His rebuild meant it was even higher than Megatron’s, bigger too — at least there’d be _some_ benefit to this transaction.

Prime froze. He looked horrified.

"Well?" Knock Out snapped, losing patience.

"I don’t want that," Prime said weakly.

"Then what do you want?" Knock Out pulled his servo away and clenched it in anger. "What do I have to do to stop you telling everyone that Dreadwing isn’t Flash’s sire?"

"Dreadwing’s not the sire?" Prime said stupidly.

"You didn’t know?" Knock Out stumbled back. "You — I — You didn’t _know?_"

He’d ruined it. There’d be no going back from this. Prime hadn’t known, now he _did_ and apparently there was nothing Knock Out could offer for his silence. Next, all of the Autobots would know and before long Flash would be a target in exactly the way Knock Out had tried to stop by coming here.

"I had thought…" Prime looked from Knock Out to Flash then back again, "I thought it was only my nostalgic optics that made Flash look like Megatron’s progeny. I take it that he is?"

"No. Yes." Knock Out sighed. "Yes. It doesn’t matter, he’s dead."

Prime's servo came to rest on Knock Out's pauldron. It was as heavy as Megatron's and, for a second, Knock Out closed his optics and let himself believe that he was there instead. It would have been so much _easier_ if Megatron had won.

"I will keep your secret," Prime said, "but I have to suggest that you inform Ratchet so Flash's medical files are correct."

"I'm a medic too," Knock Out said, "I know what I'm doing."

"And if something were to happen to you then Flash's health might be at risk from an uninformed medic."

"I'll deal with it," Knock Out snapped.

Stupid self-righteous Prime. What right did he have to inspire such guilt?

"You felt you had to offer me your frame to buy my silence," Prime said, slow and solemn as ever. "May I ask, Flash’s conception, was it —"

"I was willing," Knock Out said quickly.

Prime smiled. "Megatron did many terrible things during the war, but it makes my spark glad that this was not one of them."

It was rather disconcerting to have Prime use the same expression for thinking fondly of Megatron, as Megatron did when thinking fondly of Prime.

Well, this was getting awkward. Knock Out picked up the bundle of Flash from the berth.

"We'll be on our way then."

"Knock Out." Prime's voice stopped him at the door. "If you ever feel the need to talk with someone, be it about Megatron or anything else, I will listen."

"I'll keep that in mind," Knock Out lied.

* * *

Things got a bit quieter after that. The Autobots engaged most of the remaining Vehicons in rebuilding Iacon, while Prime and Wheeljack left to find the Allspark.

And Knock Out was still technically a prisoner, so spent most of his days locked in rooms with only Flash for company or being escorted around the _Nemesis_ by Autobots so that the newspark got enrichment.

Better than being locked in the brig, but they _still_ weren’t letting him have any oil baths. Barely even a bucket of solvent for him and Flash both.

"Torture," Knock Out complained, scrubbing a squirming Flash clean of dirt yet again.

How the brat got himself constantly filthy was anyone's guess. The long halls of the _Nemesis_ were hardly full of muck, even with the building site being the most common Ground Bridge destination.

"If I was actually torturing you, I'd put on the movies Miko sent us away with," Bumblebee said.

Knock Out raised an optic ridge, intrigued by both the threat and Smokescreen blanching behind Bumblebee.

"Oh?"

"Miko likes horror," Bulkhead explained.

"Pfft." Knock Out shook his helm. "Seen that, not worth it."

"Yeah, I bet the chop shop’s more your speed, ‘Con," Smokescreen said.

"Chop shop?"

"He means _Vamp Your Wheels_," Bulkhead said. "They take cars, strip ‘em down, then pretty ‘em up."

"Oh, _really?_" Knock Out’s interest was derailed by Flash tugging on his knee for attention with damp servos. He picked him up, grimacing at the feel of cold solvent against his chassis. "Possibly a bit mature for newspark tastes if they show the stripping down on-screen. Shame."

No human entertainment to pass the time. And just when Knock Out thought he’d be able to make friends.

Though, showing a torturer’s interest in a show the Autobots were already a bit prudish about might get Knock Out more heavily labelled _‘Con_. Which wouldn’t be good for his continued freedom of movement.

At least the Autobots were good for finding sparkling-appropriate toys in the random assortment of bric-a-brac the _Nemesis_ had picked up over the millennia of war. If the Decepticons had won then no doubt poor Flash would’ve been given a live gun to chew on by now by some clueless Vehicon — not that Knock Out could picture the commanders being much smarter.

"I wish his sire was still around," Knock Out said later, as he mindlessly built block towers for Flash. It wasn’t a complete lie, "then I could dump the little scraplet on him."

Not to mention that Megatron would be good for scratching the itch Knock Out couldn’t self-serve away. He wasn’t desperate enough to try an Autobot just yet — and even worse, get turned down for no good reason again — but it was getting more tempting than it should be.

"One of us could take him in," Bulkhead offered. "Be nice to have a bitlet underfoot sometimes."

"So you can throw me straight in the brig with the rebellious Vehicons? No, Flash is my tiny, helpless Cybertronian shield."

Flash demonstrated how _helpless_ he truly was by throwing a block and hitting Knock Out right between the optics.

Brat.

_Far_ too much like his sire. Knock Out pushed the thoughts of Megatron aside. He was going to get all _sentimental_ if he wasn’t careful.

"So… why did you become a ‘Con?" Bulkhead asked, giving Flash another block.

"Really? This is how my interrogation goes?"

"Hey, I’m just curious." Bulkhead held his servos up in surrender. "If we knew why a mid-caste mech like _you_ became a ‘Con, we can make sure it doesn’t happen again."

Knock Out stared at him, Bulkhead radiated nothing but Autobot honesty. They didn’t _know?_

Were all Autobots unobservant morons?

"I’m not mid-caste," Knock Out said slowly.

"Really? Huh." Bulkhead gave Flash another block. He tried to eat it, tiny denta leaving grooves in the soft iron-alloy. "You’re actually high-caste like all those from Vos then?"

"I’m low-caste," Knock Out said, still disbelieving. However, Bumblebee and Smokescreen had been listening in and they both had the same look of incredulity that Bulkhead was displaying. "Junkyard-caste to be precise."

Bulkhead let out a low whistle. "Nah, I’ve met junkyard-caste and none of them clean-up as nice as you."

"Of course not, no one takes as much care of their appearance as I do. Yet I’m to be judged by the rest of my caste without being able to show my skills for myself?" Knock Out snapped. "Are you going to put Flash in the same box? Force him to be a medic if he’s a car and wa-warrior if he’s a jet? No chance for him to choose otherwise?"

Scrap, he’d nearly said _warlord_. He was going to have to be more careful. If only the timing could've worked to say that Breakdown was the sire, Knock Out didn't have Dreadwing on the processor often enough to always remember in time.

"Whoa, take it easy," Bulkhead said, "I didn’t mean it like that. Guess it makes more sense why you chose to be a 'Con now though."

Because Breakdown had said _they’re going to make a difference_ and signed himself up and Knock Out wasn’t going to be left behind. Not after Tetrahex.

"I joined the Decepticons because Megatron was _winning_," Knock Out said. He ignored Smokescreen's snort of disbelief. "But before that? I was probably going to join anyway because at least they’d let me be a medic."

"You weren’t always a medic?"

"You think the junkyard-caste ranked high enough to have medics? _Please_." Knock Out didn’t want to tell that story, but he’d drawn too much attention to _not_ tell it. And you never know, it might give him and Flash some more leeway. "My function was to take deactivated bots apart. Chop off limbs, strip wires, see what usable circuit boards I could find — standard junkyard fare. Of course, I soon discovered that selling parts on to back-alley dealers made more shanix, and that cutting out the middle mech by learning how to fit parts myself made even more."

Bulkhead shifted uncomfortably. Probably the talk of black markets, he’d seen far too much gore throughout the war to get squeamish at a little dissection.

"It was easy enough to start fixing up my coworkers from there," Knock Out continued. "So I thought to myself, why not take this higher and see if I can get officially qualified? Get out of the junkyard, maybe even set up my own practice somewhere. I’ll give you three guesses what the response was."

"Uh, they said no?"

"They laughed me out the door," Knock Out said cheerfully, enjoying the flinch from half the Autobots. "It didn’t matter how hard I’d worked, how skilled I’d become, all that mattered was my caste. Filthy junkyard-caste shouldn’t be putting their disgusting servos anywhere near _real_ doctors."

"Well, if —" Smokescreen started.

"_Please_," Knock Out hissed, "justify the caste system. Do it. I’ll be _happy_ to return to my function of taking bots apart next time you need medical assistance."

Smokescreen wisely shut his mouth.

"The Decepticons did a lot of terrible things," Bumblebee said. "But they wouldn’t have existed if there hadn’t been something broken on Cybertron. We’re not going to let things go that way again. Knock Out, you’ve got a better idea of what it’s like on the other side than we do, if we’re doing something that you think is going to lead to another Decepticon-like movement, tell us so we can fix it before it gets that far."

Look at the little bug trying to be a Prime. At least he had a sense of humour — unlike their current Prime or Ultra Magnus.

* * *

And speaking of Ultra Magnus…

Knock Out clutched Flash’s servo tight as Ultra Magnus loomed over them. It was nearly as bad as Megatron — no, it was _worse_, because Megatron wouldn’t be threatening Flash like this.

"I’m his _creator_," Knock Out hissed. "He _needs_ me."

"Caretaking is easier and more productive if multiple carers are available to provide for the sparkling," Ultra Magnus intoned, sounding like he was quoting an old, dry textbook. "It will not be for long."

"We’ll be in the next room," Arcee promised. "I’ve got low-grade and toys set up and waiting. He’ll be fine."

A pre-planned, coordinated attack. Who said Autobots couldn’t be sneaky?

"Knock Out." Ultra Magnus should leave sounding disappointed to Prime, he just came across as stern. "We need to ensure that Flash is comfortable without you in the immediate vicinity. In the event of an emergency, such as a drastic injury in the field, your skills as a medic may be required in a situation that is unsafe for a sparkling to attend."

"You’re hardly letting me be a medic anyway," Knock Out said, itching to carve the frown off of Ultra Magnus’s face with a sawblade.

"That is the secondary reason I want you to perform this examination," Ultra Magnus said. "It would be useful to have a record of your standard operating procedure and overall medical ability for future reference."

"And why can’t I do that when Flash is in the room? I won’t even be getting out the power tools."

"He’s a distraction," Arcee said.

"So I’m just supposed to leave him with an _Autobot?_" Knock Out said scathingly. "After the number of Decepticons you’ve offlined?"

"I wouldn’t take out my anger at a creator on a sparkling," Arcee said. "I wouldn’t want to go near the kid if it was Arachnid’s or Starscream’s, but Dreadwing wasn’t all bad."

Which only made Knock Out more nervous. If Arachnid or Starscream as a creator meant the sparkling was to be avoided, what would Arcee do if she knew Flash was _Megatron’s?_

He knew what a thirst for vengeance looked like.

"Would you be happier with another mech taking care of Flash?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Well, Knock Out couldn’t say _yes_ to that, because then they’d _know_ something was wrong and they might start to look closer at Flash’s coding, which would only end in spilt energon.

"No," Knock Out said. Less a lie than it could’ve been, given he didn’t trust _any_ Autobot — except maybe Prime and Ratchet, and they were unavailable.

"It’ll be fine," Arcee said. She held out her servo and smiled when Flash took it. "Come on, Flash, let’s go play."

"He was fed an hour ago and he’ll need a nap in two hours," Knock Out said. "If he starts crying —"

"It’ll be fine," Arcee repeated.

She tugged Flash’s servo and Knock Out unhappily let go. No doubt Flash would start crying the second he realised Knock Out wasn’t coming too.

However, Flash wandered off holding Arcee’s servo happily. Barely even a glance back at his creator as they left the medbay, not even a squeak of alarm once the doors had swished shut behind them.

_Traitor_, thought Knock Out ungraciously.

"Alright," he snapped at Ultra Magnus, "on the slab."

To his credit, Ultra Magnus didn’t try for any variation of _I told you so_. Which was a shame, because if he had, Knock Out would’ve felt perfectly justified in being careless in his examination. But _no_, now he had to prove he was a capable medic because Autobots couldn’t just take the fact that he’d been _Megatron’s_ medic and hadn’t been slagged for poor work yet, so he must’ve done something right in that time.

Knock Out picked up the scanner, already feeling judged that he didn’t have the equipment built-in like all those _proper_ medics Ultra Magnus was no doubt comparing him to.

He resentfully took the scan and started work.

Annoyingly, the curiosity of a whole brand new system to play with made Knock Out forget he was supposed to be angry and even kept his processor off the image of Flash alone and terrified by Autobots. The number of rebuilds Knock Out could find traces of was astounding, it was like someone had taken a small bot and kept adding bits until he was bigger than everyone except Megatron and Prime. No wonder he was being used as a test subject, unskilled optics wouldn’t notice any of this.

Shame that this was just a test of his ability to find medical issues. Fixing them would come later — _if_ Knock Out passed their stupid exam.

"I can replace that for you," Knock Out said, gesturing at the malformed claw jutting out from Ultra Magnus's arm once he was done with the bulk of the exam. "There are plenty of spare parts on the ship, you know, for when Autobots tore up Vehicons. An optic or fuel pump would be tricky, but a servo is part of my _standard operating procedure_."

"As you are still technically a prisoner, I cannot accept any deal that may affect your sentencing." There wasn’t the slightest bit of regret of Ultra Magnus’s faceplates. Knock Out was impressed, not to mention a little unnerved. _No one_ was that happy with the fiddliness of law. "I will manage until we have formalised your place within our ranks."

"And how long’s that going to take?" Knock Out asked, cocking his hip. "And is there any way to… speed things along?"

He wasn’t angling for a frag, not unless Ultra Magnus took the bait without Knock Out having to put himself out there properly and winding up embarrassed again. There were probably rules against interfacing with prisoners in the Autobot Code anyway.

"Due process is due process," Ultra Magnus said. "It will take as long as is necessary and no longer — provided you cooperate to the full extent of the law."

"I’m cooperating." Knock Out gestured at the medbay. "See, this is me cooperating."

"Then I suggest you start working on your character statement," Ultra Magnus said. "Also memorising the Autobot Code in preparation for oral and written examinations. And there is —"

Knock Out knew that switching sides was a whole new kettle of rustbugs, but he’d never imagined it would take so much _paperwork_. He had assistants for that.

Or _had_ had assistants for that.

Ultra Magnus stopped in the middle of his list of requirements to become an Autobot — half of which Knock Out would lay good money on no Autobot having ever done — and put his working servo on Knock Out’s pauldron.

Why did big bots like doing that?

"We can begin the process once I have returned from my patrol with Smokescreen this afternoon," he said, like that was meant to make Knock Out feel better about the mountain of paperwork he was apparently required to fill out.

Knock Out had never been more thankful that Megatron had dumped most of the Decepticon administration duties on Soundwave, who in turn just creeped on everyone to keep track of them and make sure they stayed in line.

Knock Out was tempted to suggest that method to Ultra Magnus, if he wasn’t sure it would just end with him writing lines.

_I will not allude to illegal and immoral Decepticon practices in the vicinity of hapless, suggestable Autobots_.

* * *

The examination hadn’t taken much time, but Knock Out was still exhausted once he left the medbay. Part of him was tempted to sneak off to his room and have a nap, but he couldn’t do that without checking on Flash first.

He hadn’t overheard any sparkling screams, but that didn’t mean anything. The walls of the _Nemesis_ were thick enough to survive the vacuum of space, redundancy built-in to ensure the ship could keep flying even if half of it had been sheared off. Flash’s tiny beeps wouldn’t make it through the insulated metal.

Knock Out opened the door to the room Arcee had said they’d be in. It was almost anticlimactic to find her and Flash sat together, quietly reading from a datapad.

Toys were scattered across the floor and there was a puddle of low-grade by the door, but nothing to be concerned about compared to the horrors Knock Out’s processor had gleefully imagined for him.

"See, fine," Arcee said smugly.

Flash beeped angrily at her until she started reading again. It must’ve been one of Ultra Magnus’s datapads, given the subject matter appeared to be Xaarguinian property law.

Knock Out picked his way across the floor and settled down nearby. No need to draw Flash’s attention just yet when he could have a bit more of a rest while knowing his sparkling was safe.

Flash’s soft protometal outer-layer was finally starting to solidify to a nice, shiny silver. He’d stop growing until his first moult now, which Knock Out was thankful for, since he’d already tripled in size since his emergence and carrying him for extended periods was becoming difficult.

Hopefully, he’d get some colour in soon. Nothing screamed _Megatron’s _offspring like a plain steel natural paint job. If not, Knock Out had some spare red he used for touch-ups when energon harvests had been low and his own colours faded. He could probably just about part with it for Flash’s sake.

"So," Arcee said, when Flash gave her a break from reading, "Dreadwing, huh?"

Knock Out wondered why she was asking _now_. He supposed it was the first time they’d been alone together since he’d defected. Or tried to anyway.

"I happen to like a nice set of shoulders," Knock Out said truthfully. "You’re much the same if I’m correctly reading the way you look at the Wreckers. Though really, both at once? What kind of example are you setting for impressionable sparkling optics?"

"A good one," Arcee said levelly. "That love is varied and isn't only found between two monogamous bots."

Knock Out pulled a face. "Never saw the point in sharing, myself."

"That just shows your lack of imagination in berth."

Knock Out's optics narrowed. Arcee smirked at him. However, before he could refute anything, she held up a servo.

"Now what kind of example would _you_ be setting — talking about interface in front of impressionable sparkling audials?"

Flash looked between them both. Just because he couldn't talk yet didn't mean he couldn't _understand_ what they were saying. And Knock Out's processor was lagging from too many sparkling-based interrupts to his recharge to come up with appropriate euphemisms.

What a sad day.

Knock Out hissed a curse. "You win this round, Autobot, but this isn’t over."

Arcee glanced at Flash and her expression turned serious.

"What happened to Dreadwing?" she asked.

"Megatron killed him," Knock Out said. He decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring Starscream’s role into things, he’d seen how angry Arcee got when he was mentioned. "Something about him not following orders."

"I’m sorry," Arcee said. "I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about."

"Yes, well." Knock Out hadn’t dealt with genuine sympathy in centuries. Had it always been this uncomfortable? "That’s war for you."

Maybe it would’ve fitted better if Dreadwing really had been Flash’s sire.

At least Arcee didn’t get suspicious at Knock Out’s awkward lack of reaction. She probably thought he was just a sparkless ‘Con. Knock Out would accept that if it meant she wasn’t going to pry further into his imaginary relationship with Dreadwing.

* * *

"I told you to let me replace your servo, but _no_, can’t trust the Decepticon medic."

Knock Out’s words were wasted on Ultra Magnus’s stasis-locked frame. Still, it made him feel better as he set Flash in his newspark cage in the corner of the medbay.

"And it’s all well and good separating me and my sparkling to get us used to the idea, if it hadn’t wound up with every Autobot making plans to head out." Knock Out continued. "No one spared for sparkling-sitting. Either they have complete confidence in my skills or they really are that desperate."

Four Autobots against Predaking. Knock Out didn’t think much of their chances. Even Megatron and Starscream combined hadn’t been able to finish him off and these particular Autobots weren’t the heavy-hitters.

At least Knock Out had the Space Bridge at his command — the Autobots still hadn’t successfully worked around all of Soundwave’s security measures and Knock Out was the highest-ranking Decepticon left on board — he could take Flash and run if things turned ugly.

"Time to get to work on you. Again." Knock Out ran the scanner over Ultra Magnus.

Hmm. Not as bad as Smokescreen’s panicked jabbering had made it sound, but still enough damage to require intervention if he wanted to online again any time soon. Self-repair could only work so fast.

Knock Out had been working for half an hour or so, fixing dozens of little problems he’d found earlier that Ultra Magnus had been walking around with like it was normal — when was the last time he’d had a full-frame overhaul? — when Bumblebee entered the medbay.

"We’re bringing Ratchet in," Bumblebee said without preamble.

Knock Out could’ve happily thrown the cutting torch at Bumblebee’s stupid helm.

"Haven’t I proved myself enough?"

"It’s not that." Bumblebee said. "Predaking didn’t know anything and we’re going to look into the Predacon situation further. We need someone to work the Ground Bridge faster than we can remotely. And while we might be happy enough to have you in the medbay, we’ve only just got proper security access to the ship and it might mess things up if you get involved."

Well, that was _an_ excuse, and a poor one at that. Knock Out may have been an officer, but he wasn’t _Soundwave_ for crying out loud.

"Unless you’ve got the coordinates to Shockwave’s lab so we don’t have to search the whole of Cybertron…" Bumblebee angled.

"Shockwave had multiple secret labs, hidden all over Cybertron. I’ve already told you this," Knock Out snapped. "Stop justifying your blatant ‘Con hatred and let me work."

Bumblebee muttered something unsavoury under his vents and started to leave.

"Wait," Knock Out said. He did want a future for himself and Flash, it was just hard to remember that when the Autobots were being all _Autobot-y_. "Darkmount was Megatron’s base of operations and it’s still intact if I remember the reports. If there’s a catalogue of Shockwave’s laboratory locations, it’ll be there."

"There you go, that wasn’t so hard," Bumblebee said brightly. "See, Flash, that’s called being smart."

"And _that’s_ called being a patronising Autobot," Knock Out said, smiling through his denta.

Bumblebee shrugged it off easily and waved goodbye to Flash; who randomly decided to stop being chirpy and stared him down until he left.

"You’d make your sire proud," Knock Out said, giving Flash a pat on the helm.

The smile slipped off his face. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. Megatron was _dead_ and it was only being constantly surrounded by Autobots that made Knock Out want a strong Decepticon presence around.

That and a good spike that wouldn’t get all _guilty_ when Knock Out just wanted some fun.

Ultra Magnus was stable for now and Flash would be a nightmare if he didn’t get a nap. Knock Out scooped the sparkling up — to annoyed beeping until he let Flash grab the toy car he’d been playing with — and headed for their room.

A nice, quiet, Autobot-free moment. Knock Out was nearly tempted to go and nosy in the lab or the vault, to see what the Autobots had left unguarded. However, Flash wasn’t the only one in need of a bit of shut-eye. Knock Out was racking up a defrag debt and even fifteen minutes could make the difference between managing to be civil and telling the Autobots to go frag themselves and winding up in the brig after all.

* * *

Knock Out onlined, content for the moment. There was nothing like a short recharge in his own berth. The door might be technically locked from the outside, but at least he could rest freely.

That the spare buffer he’d hidden under the berth was still there was the oil in the energon.

He’d tried to persuade the Autobots to upgrade him to Starscream’s room — more space overall and Starscream had wrangled himself a nice wide berth for his wings that Knock Out wouldn’t have minded trying out — but they’d refused on the grounds that Starscream had likely hidden all sorts in there and they didn’t want Knock Out to get his servos on any weapons, half-built or otherwise, that might have been planned to use on Autobots or take down Megatron at some point.

Knock Out got up and stretched. He looked over to Flash’s walled berth and his emergency protocols pinged. Flash wasn’t there. Knock Out bit back a cry of alarm and scanned the room for his son.

Even with the low lighting, it was easy to see Flash hunched in the corner, staring at the datapad Wheeljack had wired up to show the security feed outside the _Nemesis_ — ostensibly for sparkling development, though Knock Out didn’t see how gazing over the ruin that was Cybertron was good for anyone.

"Flash, there you are," Knock Out said, making his way over. "Enjoying the view?"

Flash said nothing, but then his language subroutines _still_ hadn’t been fully initialised yet. It was going to happen any day now. At least his movement protocols were nearly at capacity, which was probably how he’d gotten out of his berth to begin with.

"Oh! It looks like you’ve got some colour coming in there." Knock Out brushed his digit against the patchy red blooming on Flash’s shoulder. "That’s good."

It would stop him looking quite so much like Megatron — not that the Autobots had been able to see that. Bulkhead had even gone so far as to say Flash had Dreadwing's helm shape, which was just ridiculous. Every part of Flash was clearly from Knock Out or Megatron, you’d have to be blind not to agree.

"Let’s go get some energon and try to convince the Autobots that we should be allowed to go out for a drive," Knock Out said. He _liked_ transforming and Ratchet’s restrictions could go frag themselves.

Flash turned and something was horribly, horribly wrong.

"Have you found the Vehicon’s paint stash?" Knock Out said, keeping his voice light while his creator protocols were screaming at him. "I hate to tell you this, but not only will the Autobots be jumpy about purple optics, it’s not a good look for your appearing bodywork colour."

Flash said nothing and the look on his face made Knock Out’s finish crawl.

"We’re just going to go the medbay for a checkup. Come along, Flash."

Flash didn’t move.

"I said —"

Knock Out yelped as Flash leapt for him, claws and newly sharpened fangs first. There was a lick of purple fire haloing him. Knock Out backpedalled and slammed into the door.

Of course, _now_ would be the time Knock Out’s patchy security access screwed up.

"Autobots! Help! Someone!"

The door opened and Knock Out fell out. Flash scrambled over and past him, racing down the corridor. Knock Out ran after and immediately crashed into someone he thought he’d never see again.

"Starscream?!"

Starscream stared down the corridor in confusion. "What was that? Another of your experiments?"

Knock Out shoved him aside and ran. He was half tempted to transform into vehicle mode for the speed advantage, but his sensors weren’t quite as good as a regular pair of optics and it had always been difficult to spot Flash in the _Nemesis’s_ gloomy corridors when they’d played hide-and-go-shriek.

"Is it important?" Starscream followed. "Some kind of weapon to use against the Autobots?"

Knock Out laughed, because his intake was threatening to stall and he had to do _something_.

"Knock Out?"

"It’s a sparkling," Knock Out said, reaching an intersection.

Which way had Flash gone? Left went towards an airlock, right went to the upper engine rooms. Unicron could want either. And Knock Out —

Knock Out hadn’t spent enough time learning how to search for the fragment of his spark that made up part of Flash’s. He couldn’t sense which way he’d gone.

He was a terrible creator.

"An Autobot sparkling?" Starscream asked, but the growing horror in his optics said he already knew the truth.

"Does it matter?" Knock Out snapped. "Which way did he go?"

He started off towards the engine rooms. The only way a sparkling was getting off the _Nemesis_ in one piece was if the ship landed. Or, more likely, crash-landed.

Starscream didn’t follow.

"It’s Megatron’s, isn’t it? You _did_ frag him!"

"He’s dead. Who cares!" Knock Out threw over his shoulder.

Starscream made a funny choked noise, almost like he was —

"What’s so funny?" Knock Out hissed.

"You’ll find out soon enough." Starscream looked to the left corridor and grimaced. "The airlock’s opening."

Knock Out dove left, transforming for speed.

Once he got Flash secured, he could help Starscream with his hostile takeover, provided Flash wasn’t going to end up in any danger. Starscream was the closest thing to a friend Knock Out had these days — _he_ didn’t care if Knock Out was properly qualified or not — and the familiarity would be nice.

Knock Out reached the airlock just as it closed on his bumper. He transformed and slapped the panel to open it again.

Flash was stood at the edge of the flight deck, unconcerned about the sheer drop. Knock Out’s spark sank at the glowing purple optics that glared at him over the new twisted purple growths on Flash’s shoulders and back.

"Flash, it’s me. It’s Knock Out." Knock Out reached out a servo, but froze when Flash took a step closer to the edge. "Come back, please."

A cruel grin stretched Flash’s mouth — too wide to be comfortable — one much more suited to his tyrannical sire than an innocent sparkling.

Then he took the final step and tumbled off the side.

"NO!"

Knock Out ran to the edge, barely stopping himself in time. A fall from this height —

Something shot up, nearly taking Knock Out’s helm off as he searched the dark skies for a sign. Something small and red and purple, with a jet’s roar as it sped into the distance.

It couldn’t be Flash. It _couldn’t_. Sparklings weren’t able to transform, they hadn’t built up the structural stability in their frames or the requisite energy reserves to power a V2, let alone a jet engine.

It couldn’t be, yet Knock Out knew that it was.

Everything was _wrong_. It was like seeing Cylas pretend to be Breakdown all over again.

Knock Out fought back his purge and sprinted back into the ship.

The bridge was only a few levels down. He still had security access enough to plot a course — Autobots’ difficulties with the system be damned. Knock Out was fast enough to take them if they put up a fight.

He nearly crashed into Bulkhead after a sharp turn and had to redirect power from his revved-up combat protocols. No need for violence just yet, the Autobots might have some relevant information. Or, given their soft-sparked nature, be willing to help.

"We need to get you and the bitlet off the ship," Bulkhead said. Then he took in Knock Out's panic and the conspicuous lack of newspark wailing. "Uh, where is the little guy?"

"Gone. And no, I don't know where," Knock Out said. "Is there something out there using dark energon to control things?"

Bulkhead blinked at him, then slapped his servo to his helm.

"Right, yeah, you’re not up to date. Megatron's back and possessed by Unicron."

Knock Out's oil ran cold. He shoved past Bulkhead and ran toward the bridge, transforming to get more speed as he went.

Some idiot like Shockwave messing with dark energon was one thing. Unicron with _Megatron_ was a whole different street-race. Flash was in trouble.

The doors to the bridge were already open. Knock Out skidded in and, when he realised there was a standoff going on, let his momentum carry him into Starscream’s legs, knocking him over.

Starscream’s pronged stiletto left a scratch along his hood. Knock Out gritted his clutch — it would buff out, he couldn’t afford to get distracted — and transformed. It hurt and warning signs filled his HUD; too many hurried transformations after an emergence. Something went _crunch_ underfoot as he stumbled.

Smokescreen grabbed Starscream, pinning him to the ground, and managed to glare the Vehicons into submission. Bumblebee groaned when he caught sight of the broken stick under Knock Out’s pede.

"_Knock Out!_ We needed —"

"Where's Megatron?" Knock Out demanded.

"Knock Out —"

"Tell me where he is _right now!_ Or I start surgically removing spark chambers!"

"Calm down, Knock Out," Arcee said. "We're going to face Unicron now. Where's Flash?"

"Where do you think?!" Knock Out couldn’t get his vents back to a calm cycle. He couldn’t go through the pain of losing some he cared about. Not again. He wasn’t even supposed to care about the little scraplet. "Unicron’s got his ghostly claws into him and made him fly off!"

"Fly? Newsparks can’t transform."

"You think Unicron cares about that?!"

"Wait," Smokescreen said. "Why would Flash get possessed? None of us have."

"Been playing with the dark energon while carrying, Knock Out?" asked Arcee.

"Dreadwing’s not Flash’s sire," Bumblebee said, optics annoyingly knowing. "Is he?"

"No," Knock Out said, servos shaking.

"But you said —" started Smokescreen.

"I lied."

"It doesn’t matter," Bumblebee said. "We need to get Flash back and this might be the break we needed. Flash is a registered member of the crew, so we can scan for his energy signature and make sure Unicron isn’t using Megatron’s signal to mislead us."

Good, the Autobots were doing something. Knock Out flexed his digits, pacing, unable to keep still. His engine turned over, wanting to go and _find his sparkling_.

Smokescreen was still staring at Knock Out. "How did it fi—"

"Got them!" Bumblebee interrupted. "They’re both heading to the Well of Allsparks."

* * *

It was over.

Unicron had been tricked into defeat and Megatron was alive again. There hadn't been any Autobot casualties — they were a net positive for Cybertronian frames even. Knock Out should’ve felt relieved.

But he didn’t know where Flash was.

"— The Decepticons are no more, and that is _final_."

"Lord Megatron! Wait!" Knock Out was moving forward before he even thought about it.

Megatron stopped his transformation sequence and landed heavily on two pedes. He looked extremely uncomfortable and Knock Out wondered how much he was leaving because of what he said about disliking oppression, and how much was because he wanted to get away from the Autobots and Prime’s sad looks.

"Be quick, Knock Out," Megatron said.

"There was a sparkling," Knock Out said, unable to make his voice anything other than sharp and desperate. "A newspark. Unicron had him. Where is he?"

Megatron clearly hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked at Knock Out, uncomprehending.

"About this tall." Knock Out indicated with his servo. "With red patches coming in —"

"And purple wings," Megatron finished. He huffed a laugh. "So he _does_ exist. Unicron sent him down to destroy Primus’s spark with the other thralls."

And straight into the jaws of the Predacons. Knock Out felt like he was going to purge.

He couldn’t —

He wasn’t —

Was this his comeuppance for the many times he'd regretted having and keeping Flash? Or his punishment for being too selfish to give Flash up to Autobots who were so much better at being creators than an ex-(ish)-Decepticon and a dead, possessed mech.

He was a horrible, awful creator.

Megatron’s heavy servo come to rest on Knock Out’s pauldron. Knock Out looked up — he couldn’t remember looking down — to find Megatron looking at him with something soft in his optics.

"What is his designation?"

"Flash," Knock Out replied. "But Unicron —"

"I still function," Megatron said, drawing himself up to his full — even more impressive than before — height. "I will search for your sparkling."

Then, with a haste probably just as much attributed to avoiding the Autobots as it was for Knock Out’s benefit, Megatron leapt into the air, completed his transformation sequence, and flew across the wastes towards the Well of Allsparks.

Starscream opened his mouth, glanced at the Autobots, then closed it again.

"Yes," he said, realising he was surrounded by Autobots and that Knock Out was unlikely to intervene if it came to a fight, "well, we all have plenty to think about, don't we?"

With one final glare at Knock Out, Starscream transformed and jetted off in the opposite direction to Megatron.

There was a moment of silence, in which Knock Out imagined Megatron returning with Flash in one piece and everything going right for once.

"We must also reach the Well of Allsparks," Prime said. "Arcee, please let Ratchet and Ultra Magnus know so that they might meet us there."

Knock Out had to believe in Megatron. He'd come back from the Allspark once already, surely it would be easy to do it again with a scrap of a newspark in tow.

He had to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took longer than I hoped it would (my writing tends to get exponentially slower the bigger a piece gets), but hopefully it being over 150% as long as all of Knock Out's parts combined makes up for it.

The Well of Allsparks was haunting. Megatron felt like he was desecrating the holiest of Cyberton’s sites simply by existing within it. The shard of dark energon within his spark pulsed sickly.

The Well was deep. Even with his thrusters pushed to maximum, the journey took far too long.

He should have just left. Optimus had wings now, he could have looked for Knock Out’s errant sparkling. Or Starscream might have been persuadable. There had been no reason for Megatron to delay his self-exile.

No reason, except one.

The heart of Cybertron came into view. It glowed a brilliant blue, almost bright enough to obscure the three winged shapes flitting about. Had some of the thralls survived?

No, Megatron realised, getting closer, it was far worse.

Megatron landed on a dark segment of Primus’s spark, flipping out of vehicle mode. Gravity was an odd thing in the middle of a planet, but still, the gargantuan spark had a pull that held Megatron’s pedes firmly on the metal surface. The centre of Cybertron indeed.

Predaking landed before him, snarling.

"I did not come here to fight," Megatron said.

Predaking transformed. He was shorter than Megatron remembered.

Or not. Megatron was _taller_ now. Impotent hate sat low in his tanks, rage at a dormant god.

"Do you think I care what you want?" Predaking snarled. "After what you did to my hallowed dead?"

"If I truly held the power to command the dead, this war would have had a very different ending, a long time ago," Megatron said, "I am not here to fight, but if you stand in my way I will remove you."

Megatron meant to end the threat with a hum of his fusion cannon, only to discover he didn’t have it anymore. Or his sword. Unicron may have been able to wield constructs made of his chaotic energies, but Megatron was unarmed.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

"This time I am not alone," Predaking said, as his Predacons landed behind him and transformed. "And you _are_."

"Megatron!"

The cry was high-pitched, barely a squeak in the oppressive gloom. Predaking backed off as something small barrelled into Megatron’s leg.

"Boss! Uh, King — it’s the sparkling," one of Predaking’s idiots said redundantly.

"Flash," Megatron said.

The sparkling smiled up at him shyly. The top of his helm didn’t even make it to Megatron’s knee. Unicron’s influence was clear; patches of red and purple clashed all over him and twisted purple wings sprouted from his back, even though sparklings weren’t meant to be able to transform until they were much older.

Unicron had done this, but he’d only been able to do so because Megatron had used dark energon. For the first time, Megatron regretted his use of the substance.

"You're here. You're really here," Flash said happily.

"Your sparkling?" Predaking asked. He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t look like he was about to launch an attack immediately any more.

Megatron nodded. Predaking growled under his breath.

"For the sake of the sparkling, I will not fight you today," Predaking said, "But know that next time our paths cross, you will not walk away online."

"A Prime has yet to kill me," Megatron said, "A god didn’t manage. You will not do better."

Predaking snarled and leapt into the air, transforming and flapping back toward the surface. His two lackeys followed.

Megatron knelt to better examine the sparkling.

"Can you fly?"

Flash shook his head. The twisted purple wings on his back fluttered. Perhaps his previous flight had been fueled by Unicron's energies — much the same as the constructs Unicron had used with Megatron's frame — and his frame hadn't been too mutated overall.

Megatron picked him up and transformed around him. It had been a long time since anyone had been in Megatron's cockpit, but this felt right. The safest, most natural place for a sparkling of his code.

Megatron shot up through the Well, then swerved to one side suddenly. He fought to right himself and skittered off the Well's sheer wall before he managed to wrest back control.

"Stop that!"

"Sorry," Flash said, pulling his servos back from Megatron's controls.

_Sparklings_.

Megatron unfurled his restraints and secured Flash properly against his seat. A position that conveniently kept short sparkling arms away from anything that might cause trouble. The last thing Megatron wanted was to fire a weapon he hadn't intended to.

The journey to the surface felt faster than the one to the core. Either Flash's presence was enough of a distraction or passing the Predacons halfway broke up the travel enough to make it seem quicker.

The Autobots were gathered in a knot around the remains of the _Nemesis_. Clouds of dust were being kicked up as two more Autobots drove toward them.

Megatron cast his scanner further out and caught sight of Knock Out sitting by the edge of the Well of Allsparks. Megatron landed beside him.

"Flash!" Knock Out had never moved so fast before. Within seconds of Megatron landing, he’d relieved him of sparkling.

Flash beamed at him, giggling as Knock Out turned him to examine every part of him. He tutted at the purple patches.

Megatron’s job was done. He could leave now before Optimus came over and started talking.

"Thank you," Knock Out said, sounding like he’d been thrown a lifeline when all felt lost. "_Thank you_."

Such sincerity from Knock Out was unheard of. Megatron wondered if Optimus was going to start slaughtering humans. It would be just as strange.

"He’s mine," Megatron said, too sure to make it a question, but needing the confirmation nonetheless.

Knock Out nodded. "I don’t know anyone else whose coding is that susceptible to Unicron."

That stung, even though it was true. Megatron looked at his servos, but the dissonance between what he expected and what he saw made him feel sick.

The Autobots were getting closer. Megatron should leave. Should have already left.

"Megatron." Optimus reached them before Megatron could persuade himself to move.

"Optimus. Should I congratulate you on your victory?"

"It was not mine alone," Optimus said. He looked at peace, but not happy. That meant he was about to do something stupidly noble and self-sacrificing.

Where was the Allspark? Unicron would not have been tricked by a decoy if the real thing hadn’t been close enough to confuse his senses. Megatron had a horrible feeling he knew.

"You fool," he said, softly.

"It was the only way," Optimus replied, confirming Megatron’s guess.

Megatron shook his helm. "Not like this."

Optimus gifted him a rare smile. Bittersweet enough to make Megatron’s spark hurt.

"Megatron!" the sparkling chirped, drawing their attention.

"You’ve known him for all of ten minutes and you’re talking," Knock Out grumbled. "Meanwhile, what do I get for all those months carrying?"

The sparkling was reaching for Megatron. When Megatron didn’t reach back, he squirmed until Knock Out put him down, then stumbled over to grab Megatron’s shin with tiny pointy digits. He smiled up at him brightly.

"I fear I've left you a terrible legacy, little one," Megatron said.

If only Unicron’s influence hadn’t left such an obvious mark on the sparkling. Under the rising sun, the purple mutations were stark and nauseating. With any luck, they’d vanish during his first moult, but dark energon was in his very coding.

Megatron had done this, to his own sparkling no less.

"Then perhaps you should make a better one." Optimus, of course.

"And I would achieve this, how?" Megatron snapped. "I am not welcome on this planet, nor do I wish to be."

"You have people who need you here," Optimus said. "You have a family."

"A turncoat and an accidental piece of code? Tell me, Optimus, would you be so keen for me to stay if you weren’t planning on abandoning _your_ family?"

"Optimus…" Ratchet closed his optics and braced himself.

"What does he mean?" Smokescreen asked. "Optimus? What does that mean?"

"In order to both protect the Allspark and secure Unicron's defeat, it was necessary for me to empty the vessel's contents into the Matrix of Leadership," Optimus said. "As such, my own spark can no longer be separated from the multitude of others within me."

A strange, roiling sensation simmered low in Megatron's tanks. If he hadn't used that blasted piece of dark energon, this wouldn't be happening.

It was his fault.

But there was no way to fix this. Megatron had to watch Optimus say goodbye to his Autobots and there was _nothing_ he could do to help the only mech who had ever truly seen his spark.

Megatron picked up Flash. There was some small comfort to be had at the way Flash clung back.

"Above all, do not lament my absence," Optimus said, meeting Megatron's optics. The roiling feeling got worse for how sorrowful Optimus's expression was. "For in my Spark, I know that this is not the end, but merely a new beginning. Simply put, another transformation."

Megatron wanted to fly, to break Cybertron’s atmosphere and lose himself amidst the stars. He wanted to scream, to demand of Primus himself that Optimus should be spared.

He wanted…

Optimus fell and the Well of Allsparks erupted, Megatron turned his back to the bright sparks. Flash peered over his shoulder, watching the lights.

Optimus wanted him to stay, so stay he would, but not here. Not to watch Optimus's death and pretend it was necessary and right.

Megatron cradled Flash close and set off for the crashed remains of the _Nemesis_.

* * *

"At least I know why you're so heavy now," Ratchet said, noting down Flash's weight on his datapad before helping Flash off the scales.

"He's still not going to be a truck," Knock Out said.

Megatron caught Ratchet's optic roll. So did Flash and he promptly burst into giggles.

"Why would he be a truck?" Megatron asked, baffled.

"Certain _hacks_ think that sparklings' weight and _not_ their carrier's coding, will determine their final form," Knock Out said.

"It's been studied!" Ratchet snapped back. "Carrier coding has never been more than a folk tale. Sparkling mass indicates what vehicle modes they will be suited for in later functioning. There may be variation and surgical alterations can change things further, but Flash is unlikely to become, say, a two-wheeler purely based on his current weight."

"A good chance of a tank then," Megatron said — despite Unicron’s twisted attempts at forcing flight. Pride surged within Megatron, it had been far too long since he’d last met a new tank.

"A _tank?!_" Knock Out spluttered.

Ratchet nodded. "There is variance, as I said, and who knows what changes the dark energon may have made, but the weight distribution matches."

"A tank!" Knock repeated. "Where did you get that idea?"

Megatron frowned. Ratchet glanced between Megatron and Knock Out and wisely took Flash to the next medical slab over.

"I'm a tank," Megatron said. "It stands to reason my offspring might be also."

"Last I checked, tanks don't fly," Knock Out said snippily. Then recalled who he was talking back to and hastily added, "my liege."

"No, no titles," Megatron said. "I've only had this vehicle mode for a few centuries."

"Treads I take it? Not wheels?" A flash of disappointment crossed Knock Out's face when Megatron nodded. "Hmm. Well, the sire's coding is even less of a factor than the carrier's, so it's still up in the air. Now, open up." He tapped Megatron's chest plates. "Let's get this dark energon out of you, my lord."

"Titles, Knock Out," Megatron chided as he opened his spark chamber.

"An entire war of habit is going to take time to break," Knock Out said. He picked up a vicious set of forceps and pointedly added. "Megatron."

How long had it been since an ally had called Megatron by just his name? Even when they'd been interfacing, Knock Out had tended to stay reasonably deferential. It was going to take some getting used to, on both sides.

"Oh." Knock Out’s optics widened. "That’s made things easier."

"What?" Megatron growled.

"It’s gone," Knock Out said.

"_Gone?!_"

Megatron grabbed at his spark chamber, brushing aside Knock Out’s flimsy attempts to stop him. It was right there — _right there_ —

It was gone.

Megatron’s vents choked. His intake stalled. Confused warnings popped up on his HUD as his processor couldn’t figure out what had crashed or glitched to make him panic.

The shard was _gone_ and Megatron could _still feel Unicron’s poison in his veins_.

"— down! Megatron! Calm down! You need to —"

"— over here! No! You’ll —"

"—atron! Reboot. You have to —"

Tiny claw tips sunk into Megatron’s shin. His glitching processor killed everything except old, previously unexecuted protocols in self-defence. _Creator_ protocols.

A sparkling was hugging his leg.

_Megatron’s_ sparkling was hugging his leg.

"Flash," Megatron managed.

"Megatron!" Flash squeaked back happily.

Megatron picked him up. He was a tiny scrap of spark, even with Unicron's influence clear on his frame. It was grounding.

"The shard may not be present, but I still feel Unicron's power," Megatron said, vents still running ragged.

"Ah," Knock Out said, mouth twisting.

"Let me have a look," said Ratchet.

"I know what I'm doing," Knock Out snapped.

"Then let me have a look! Consulting is a sensible thing to do!"

"Oh, like _you_ do." Knock Out crossed his arms, glaring.

"Enough," Megatron said, silencing the medics' argument. "Scan me and be done."

Ratchet took his scan with a glare at both Decepticons. Unfortunately, he didn't have any better ideas than Knock Out for how to set things right.

"Wouldn't an energon transfusion work?" Megatron asked, after growing tired of them bickering again.

"No. Simply put: it's stained your spark," Ratchet said. "And we don't have a precedent since most bots aren't stupid enough to go around sticking dark energon into their spark chambers."

"Stained spark _and_ code. Given, well…" Knock Out gestured to Flash.

It probably should have been more concerning to Megatron that dark energon had been running through his veins long enough to corrupt his coding. However, he'd known there may be side-effects from the second he'd laid eyes on the outcrop on a distant asteroid. He'd considered the risks worth it to finally win the war — not that it had helped in the end.

No, what was worrying was still the ghastly streaks of purple on Flash's frame.

"Then any sparklings struck from my spark —" Megatron began.

"Will be vulnerable to Unicron's powers, should he escape from his prison," Ratchet finished grimly.

"Unless we can figure out how to rid you of your dark energon," Knock Out said. "And from there, hopefully, cleanse Flash of the taint."

"There is also the issue that dark energon has prevented my permanent offlining twice," Megatron said. "I may not survive without it."

"That’s a risk we’re willing to take," Ratchet said, cheerfully.

Megatron sharply reminded himself that Ratchet was an ally for the foreseeable future and should be treated as such. If he broke the ceasefire over a half-sparked threat it would only prove how weak Megatron truly was.

"What happened to Shockwave?" Megatron asked. "He is by far the best scientist available."

Knock Out shrugged an elegant shoulder. "I don’t know."

"Right away," Ratchet said, clearly talking over comms. He looked to Megatron. "Ultra Magnus wants to see you on the bridge once we're done here."

"You're _leaving?_" Flash squeaked.

Knock Out and Ratchet exchanged a surprised look. Megatron's processor stalled and he had to scramble to respond — no one had been disappointed at Megatron leaving since before the war started.

"Temporarily," Megatron said. "I will see you later."

He looked to Knock Out, who gave a short nod. Good. No one was going to keep Megatron from his sparkling, but Knock Out was the only one with any right to attempt to do so.

Flash smiled. That was Knock Out's smile. It struck Megatron all over again that they had _created a sparkling_.

"Can I stay with you t'night?" Flash asked.

"I don't think —"

"An excellent idea," Knock Out interrupted.

Megatron hadn't expected that. Knock Out fidgeted, but didn't back down.

"Eeeee!" Flash beeped.

"He's your sparkling," Megatron said slowly.

"He's yours too," Knock Out said. He pointedly glanced at Ratchet, who was recording Flash's spark signature. "I'd feel safer if he was with you for the night."

Ah, the Autobots. Megatron was much better placed for fending off any attempts on Flash's life. Just what threats had Knock Out endured so far? Megatron felt a sharp stab of fury that any Autobot would threaten his sparkling and his… his medic.

The reminder that Megatron had no claim quieted his combat protocols.

"Very well," Megatron said.

Ratchet snorted.

"I've dealt with sparklings before," Megatron said, annoyed.

"I'm sure you'll do great," Knock Out said. "Now, I'm not sure there's anything more we can do with you right now, my — Megatron. I'll start running some tests on your energon and see what we can do with regards to that missing shard."

"You will _not_," Ratchet snapped. "Don't think I didn't notice that you've been transforming when I specifically told you not to. Get on the slab."

Knock Out looked pleadingly at Megatron, who just raised an optic ridge back. Medical care was important — Knock Out wouldn't have gained such a prominent place in the Decepticon hierarchy if it hadn't been for his medical skills.

"I will be back for the sparkling later," Megatron said. He paused in the doorway and looked back to find wide, red optics staring up at him from knee-height. "Goodbye, Flash."

"Bye," Flash said, unhappily.

Megatron steeled himself and left. The medics would be able to take care of the sparkling perfectly well. Going to the bridge and formalising this Decepticon surrender — this ceasefire — would only help things for Megatron and his sparkling.

Shockwave's energy signature would be easy to find from the bridge too and Megatron could get the last of this poisonous dark energon out of his and Flash's systems as quickly as possible.

* * *

Most of the Autobots in attendance braced themselves when Megatron entered the bridge. Megatron himself had to shut down his own combat protocols at seeing alive and unrestrained Autobots on his ship.

The bridge was unnerving with Soundwave unaccounted for. Megatron hoped his deactivation had been quick and before Laserbeak’s.

"Assuming the damage report systems are fully operational, the _Nemesis_ has no engines, no long-range communication, no Ground Bridge, the laboratory suite is no longer functional, half the processed energon stores have exploded, the emergency lighting won’t switch off, and habitation decks N though Q have been completely destroyed." Ultra Magnus looked up from the console at Megatron and the ensembled Autobots. "There is also the matter of security clearance. Currently, deep access is restricted, as we’ve been unable to bypass Soundwave’s security measures."

Even Megatron couldn’t get into data that Soundwave wanted to keep him out of. He had to hope that Soundwave’s loyalty had been as true as ever.

Megatron stepped up to the console. It had always been on the short side and now, with an extra metre of height, it was awkward. His digits didn’t respond the way he expected them to either — too many joints to bend — and he had to change his servo positions several times to find something close to comfortable.

"I’m not going to give all of you complete and total access," Megatron said, pausing when he’d reached the databank containing personnel. He’d have to update the statuses of the rest of his high command, but not now, not in front of the Autobots.

Shockwave was listed as MIA — an automatic state personnel were assigned by default when they weren’t on a mission and the system had been unable to locate their life-signature. With all the damage the _Nemesis_ had sustained it could be a purely mechanical error, or Shockwave could have gone to ground and be hiding in one of the many shielded laboratories he’d hollowed out for himself over his years on Cybertron.

An investigation to pursue another day.

"Why not?" Bumblebee challenged.

"Because I don’t trust you," Megatron said.

They could bristle all they liked to that, but Megatron wasn’t going to budge.

"If I might make a suggestion, Megatron," Ultra Magnus said. "I was Optimus’s second in command for most of the war, I am the highest-ranking Autobot here and I know our command structure better than you do. Allow me editing access and I will give appropriate permissions to the rest of my team."

A simple, elegant solution. Megatron didn’t trust it. He hadn’t survived nearly the entire war by taking Autobots at their word.

"Tell me your command structure and I’ll decide if it fits."

Ultra Magnus immediately produced a datapad with the relevant part highlighted. Megatron was right to mistrust him — no one who was that prepared was ever telling the truth.

Yet, when Megatron looked over the list, he couldn’t see the trap.

He _hated_ it when Autobots had the upper-hand.

But if he was to fulfil Optimus’s final request, he couldn’t just kill all the Autobots in the room and be done with this farce.

With gritted denta, Megatron entered Ultra Magnus’s designation and serial number into the empty space that had never been given to a fourth-in-command.

"What if Starscream tries something?" Bumblebee asked.

"I will deal with it," Megatron said shortly. "Don’t bother trying to remove me as captain of the ship and first in command. Soundwave put that beyond permissions."

Megatron wanted Soundwave silently at his side once more. To have an ally here, beyond Knock Out and his spawn. Soundwave would understand what this fragile peace cost Megatron.

It was meant to be a Decepticon victory, with Optimus here, at last, telling Megatron that he’d been right the whole time. Optimus finally _listening_ to what Megatron had been saying all along.

Instead, an Autobot win and an unregulated sparkling with _Knock Out_ of all mechs.

Self-exile was _far_ too tempting.

* * *

Knock Out was pulling a box on short legs down the corridor with great difficulty, hissing a modified curse with every other vent. Flash was carrying a bundle of insulation sheets by his side.

"A little help?" Knock Out asked, catching sight of Megatron on his way to his habsuite.

"What is this?" Megatron asked, lifting the box. It wasn’t heavy, despite the low-grade cubes being stored in a crate within it.

"Berth!" Flash piped up, then promptly tripped over a dangling sheet.

Knock Out rolled his optics and helped the sparkling to his tiny pedes.

"Full sentences," Knock Out reprimanded. "I know your language modules have been fully installed."

Flash stuck his glossa out. "It’s my berth."

"Better."

"I presume you were taking it to my quarters?" Megatron said.

"You did say you’d take him overnight." Knock Out left a conspicuous pause, likely biting back an honorific. "If you’ve changed your mind, I can find someone —"

"No, I’ll do it."

"Yay!" Flash squeaked. He tripped over the sheets again to come and place himself underpede.

"This isn’t an excuse to stay up all night," Knock Out warned the sparkling.

He was… _hovering_. Megatron couldn’t think of another way to describe it. Concern for the sparkling perhaps?

Megatron’s usual rage at being doubted was muted. He’d been doubting his own path and, for the first time in his functioning, had no plans for the future. The concern of a creator over their knee-high sparkling barely registered.

The walled berth fitted neatly against the wall where Megatron’s trophies were displayed. Not that any trophies remained.

Autobots were most likely the cause.

"He tends to wake once or twice during the night," Knock Out said, watching Flash sprint around Megatron’s room like a mad thing. "Just feed him some low-grade and put him back in his berth and he’ll drift right off again. Oh, sometimes he’ll purge a bit, so you’ll have to clean that up."

It sounded remarkably similar to the times Megatron had helped other gladiators when they’d gotten overcharged, back when he used to live in the Pits of Kaon. Of course, they had to return the favour from time to time and Megatron could always slag them next time they were in a match together if they purged on him.

That wouldn’t work with Flash, however.

"Is there anything else?"

Knock Out shrugged. "It’s fairly straight-forward. Call Ratchet if you need anything, I’m not getting up for love nor wax."

"You kept him, despite his coding," Megatron said.

Knock Out hesitated, optics darting between Megatron, Flash, and the door.

And to think, Megatron had once _enjoyed_ the fear shown by his subordinates, instead of getting an uncomfortable roiling sensation low in his tanks.

"Funny story about that," Knock Out said, slipping back into the easy smile he used when he thought he was in trouble, "I didn't actually know I was carrying until the emergence. After that, it was: keep him or get locked in the brig."

Megatron had known carrying mechs — though not for millennia — and given the fuss some of them had put up, he'd thought Knock Out would've squeezed the Autobots for everything they had.

"When was his emergence?"

"During the final battle. Around the time you —" Knock Out tapped his chest plates.

That was earlier than Megatron had expected. Flash looked so _small_, it was hard to imagine him as anything other than a freshly-emerged newspark.

Flash's vocaliser bubbled up a string of complete nonsense. Half words, half beeps, nothing understandable.

"Full sentences," Knock Out said with a frown.

"Sorry, Knock Out," Flash said, nothing diminishing his excited grin.

"Are you going to be alright?" Knock Out asked. When Flash nodded enthusiastically, Knock Out looked at Megatron, clearly asking the same question.

"I've faced worse," Megatron said.

Knock Out didn't relax. He didn't make any move to leave either. For an unreal moment, Megatron considered asking him to stay the night too. However, their previous relationship had been splintered by Megatron and it wasn't his right to press unwanted attention upon someone who could have his pick from any Cybertronian in their makeshift new society.

Megatron tried to remember how to show genuine concern.

"I trust you aren't regretting this decision?" He asked.

"I don't want to recharge in the same room as him for now. Last time I woke up with Flash, Unicron had him," Knock Out said in a shuddery rush. "I know it won’t happen again, but…"

"You fear Unicron will be able to influence him, even from his prison."

"Just _look_ at him!"

Megatron had seen enough of Flash’s mutations for a lifetime. Purple growths and wings breaking up the patchy red that must have been his natural paint job.

Ah, of course. Knock Out hated seeing terrible paint.

"I will not let anything happen to him," Megatron vowed. "He is of my code and I keep what’s mine."

Knock Out’s engine turned over, almost hiding his scoff. Yet, he held his glossa.

Exhaustion was crawling over the edges of Megatron’s plating — death and possession hadn’t been a chance to defrag and he hadn't kept the cleanest recharge schedule before that — so he let it go.

"Go," Megatron said. "Recharge. I've dealt with sparklings before." Granted, not for millennia, but the process couldn't have changed much.

"If you need anything…" Knock Out said.

"I'll call Ratchet," Megatron promised. "Go, rest."

Knock Out nodded. "Goodnight, Flash."

He caught the sparkling and rubbed a smudge off his chin. Flash squirmed and beeped.

"Goodnight, Megatron," Knock Out said, a determined smile on his face.

"Goodnight, Knock Out," Megatron said.

Was this how it was meant to feel? Peace and domesticity? Megatron couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Knock Out lingered in the doorway for a long moment, then, with an expression Megatron couldn't read, left.

Megatron looked at Flash. Flash looked at Megatron.

Sparklings had never been part of Megatron's plans, but there had always been the slim hope that Optimus would finally give in and Megatron would make a future with him.

But that wasn't going to happen now.

"What do you do to get ready for berth?" Megatron asked.

"Play!" Flash chirped.

Megatron snorted. "I doubt that." What to do with a sparkling? "Would you like to hear a story?"

Flash looked dubiously around the room. "No 'pads."

"A good storyteller has no need for records, spoiled little thing," Megatron said, amused. "There was a time I wasn't allowed datapads. Back when Cybertron was corrupt and the lower castes were kept uneducated."

Most of Megatron's stories weren't suitable for sparkling audials. Tales of gladiatorial combat and wartime strategies were hardly light. Perhaps some of the older folk tales from Kaon that had been old before Orion Pax onlined.

The roiling guilt hit Megatron again. Enough. He could tell a tale to his sparkling without letting his own emotions get in the way.

"There is a tale of a terrible beast and the sly, little trickster who defeated him. A glitchmouse was walking through the dark, copper forest…"

* * *

Flash must have been in dire need of a recharge, as he didn't last long into the tale before his optics dimmed and he couldn't stop yawning. Megatron put him in the walled berth and tucked the insulation sheets around him and, within a minute, Flash's engine was idling and his vents had evened out.

"Flash?" Megatron tried quietly.

Not so much as a peep.

And to think, Knock Out had been _worried_. Megatron allowed himself to bask in the first untainted victory he'd had since he'd blasted Predaking out of the _Nemesis_.

Megatron's room had a console wired into the wall — a luxury he hadn't ever seen the point of until now. He bypassed the Autobots' pathetic attempts at security and ran a systems check of the _Nemesis_.

It returned exactly what Ultra Magnus had listed off earlier, plus a few extra notifications that basic access wouldn't have had the clearance for. So, the Autobots were truthfully going to try peace for now.

To be sure, Megatron pulled up the security camera feed. Several were too damaged to show more than static, but he could roughly find the Autobots. They'd claimed one of the Vehicons' bunk rooms for their own use and most of them were settling down for the night. Ultra Magnus was on surveillance on the bridge and Knock Out was in his own room, on his berth and —

Megatron shut the camera off. That was private and definitely not meant for his optics.

It was late and Megatron's processor pinged him with a warning that he was operating at sub-optimal capacity and would continue to do so unless he ran a defrag.

He was _tired_.

Megatron shut off the console and the lights then settled into berth. It felt strange against his struts and he spent some time trying to get comfortable before giving up.

His frame was wrong, not the berth. It still rankled that Unicron had gotten the last laugh.

It was quiet, the usual soft hum of the _Nemesis's_ flight engines broken. Too quiet given the number of frames in the room.

Megatron stopped his ventilation. Waiting, listening in the dark for —

Yes, there. Flash was still alive. His soft little sparkling vents barely reached Megatron's audials.

Megatron ex-vented.

Perhaps he should move Flash's berth closer? It would make it easier to check on him. But then the movement might wake him and an overtired sparkling was a grumpy sparkling.

Megatron shut his optics and emptied his processor, determined to get some recharge one way or another.

* * *

A cry.

Megatron onlined in full fight mode, searching for the threat that must be at his door.

Nothing.

Another soft cry drew his attention. The bright glow of Flash's optics illuminated the walls of his berth. He was awake then.

Megatron forced his battle systems to offline. If Flash's berth had been closer he might have hit it in his panic. Best to keep it against the opposite wall after all.

Nothing woke you like a jolt of adrenaline. Megatron was functioning at full capacity as he plucked a tiny cube of low-grade from the crate Knock Out had provided and made his way to Flash’s berth.

"Here." Megatron opened the cube and gave it to Flash.

Flash blinked at him, then upturned the cube over his own helm.

Unrepentant little monster.

With a growl, Megatron picked up a sticky Flash, grabbed another cube of low-grade, then sat on the edge of his berth, trying to emulate the hold he'd seen Knock Out use yesterday.

Knock Out made it look _easy_.

Flash squirmed, tiny frame nearly toppling out of Megatron’s loose grip. His fragile armour plating was too tender for Megatron to hold him easily in place without harming him.

"Stay still."

"Play," Flash said.

"It’s time to recharge," Megatron said. "Drink."

Flash scowled ineffectually. Megatron waited, too used to staring down Starscream to give in here and now. Eventually, Flash gave up and drank the low-grade.

"Good sparkling."

Megatron looked at Flash’s berth. Still wet with spilt energon, hardly a good place for a newspark to recharge. He left Flash in the middle of his berth and wiped it down. Flash had nearly reached the edge by the time Megatron had finished and only Megatron’s quick reflexes stopped him tumbling off.

"Time to rest," Megatron said, placing Flash back in his berth.

Flash blinked at him, then promptly purged most of the low-grade he'd drunk all over himself and his berth again.

Megatron stared at him. Either the little scraplet was the most natural deceiver Megatron had ever came across or that had been completely unintentional.

"I just cleaned that," Megatron growled.

Flash blinked at him again, sleepy, but unabashed.

"Fine." Megatron plucked him up again. He was so small and light.

Flash cuddled up to Megatron, making him pause. Flash wanted to be close, despite Megatron’s appearance, despite his uncertain attempts at being a creator.

Unicron’s blood in his veins felt restricting rather than strengthening the way it used to.

Sparkling berth wiped down again — Megatron was going to run out of cleaning cloths at this rate — and Flash back inside, Megatron lay down on his own berth to get some recharge.

Tiny red optics peeped over the side of the walled berth. Megatron usually kept his habsuite pitch-black when he recharged — to better catch potential assassins by their unhidden biolights or unshuttered optics — and even the handful of nights he’d spent with Knock Out in his berth hadn’t let him fully adjust to falling into recharge quickly when there were additional light-sources in the room.

Flash’s stare was unrelenting.

With a sigh, Megatron got up and plucked Flash out of his walled berth again. Flash snuggled into his arms and dimmed his optics.

"Better." Megatron sat on the edge of his berth again, careful to keep his movement smooth and his vocaliser volume set low. "Recharge, little sparkling."

Flash ran a full venting cycle and, slowly, his optics blinked shut for longer and longer, then he fell into recharge, so trusting against Megatron. Perhaps a bit more time would let Flash settle into a deeper recharge. Holding Flash to his chest plate, Megatron lay carefully down on his berth.

Five minutes later — during which Megatron hardly dared to vent — Flash was rumbling his tiny engine in full recharge. This was Megatron’s chance. He sat up slowly.

Flash mumbled something, shifting in Megatron's hold. Megatron froze.

Tiny claw tips gripped at the edge of Megatron’s insignia. He patted Flash’s back gently and the sparkling stilled and went back into recharge.

Megatron tried to move again and Flash grumbled.

Trapped by a sleeping sparkling, how pathetic. Yet, at the same time, beyond belief that anyone would trust Megatron with all the energon on his servos.

_Innocence_.

Megatron didn’t recharge after that.

* * *

Knock Out was kind enough — a thought that would never have previously crossed Megatron’s processor — to bring some energon for them both the next morning.

"Well, you’re both still online at least." Knock Out picked up Flash from the edge of the berth, where he was babbling a confusing tale to Megatron, who was too tired to follow a story that could very well be entirely false.

Megatron grunted and took a cube.

For one fragile moment, it felt domestic. A pretty little conjunx to wake to and their bright sparkling. Then Megatron caught sight of his frame and the moment shattered.

Unicron’s get didn’t have a happily ever after.

Knock Out shifted Flash in his arms. "You’re getting far too heavy. How much are you planning to grow when you moult?"

"_Heavy_," Megatron scoffed.

"Yes, heavy," Knock Out repeated with an optic roll. "Not all of us were made for combat, you know."

A yawn caught Megatron by surprise. The gears in his jaw clicked at the stretch. Knock Out looked him over with a critical medic's optic.

"Did you get _any_ recharge last night?"

"Some."

"Hmm." Knock Out shifted Flash in his arms again. "Get some more. The Autobots can wait for an hour or two."

"I'm fine," Megatron growled. He wasn't the sparkling here.

"You _died_," Knock Out said, as though that meant something. "Please, my liege."

— _you will rule nothing!_—

"No titles, Knock Out."

"Yes, of course." Knock Out’s mouth twisted as he studied Megatron again. "At least drink all of that."

Megatron’s instinctive reaction was to ignore the advice for no other reason than contrariness. He gave his processor a firm kick and downed the rest of the cube — Knock Out had no reason to want Megatron dead and every reason to want him to do well at the Autobot negotiations.

"Come on, Flash." Knock Out put the sparkling on the floor and grabbed his servo. "We’re going to the washracks."

"Not dirty," Flash mumbled.

"Oh? And what’s this?" Knock Out tapped a splatter of regurgitated energon that Megatron must have missed in the night. "You purged, don’t lie to me."

"Or get better at it if you do," Megatron said.

"I know we’re Decepticons, but still, I’d prefer _not_ to be lied to about hygiene by my own sparkling," Knock Out huffed. He finally smiled at Megatron. "You look like you could use a scrub too." He bit off whatever he was about to say next. Probably another honorific.

Megatron let it slide, it was going to be a steep learning curve for everyone.

"We’ll see you for the evening debrief, if not before?" Knock Out said, tentative behind his usual cockiness.

"Of course." An evening spent with an innocent sparkling and the only true Decepticon left would be a good palate cleanser after tolerating Autobots for an entire day.

* * *

Ultra Magnus and Bumblebee were the only Autobots on the bridge when Megatron arrived. They didn't immediately panic and start hiding what they'd been doing, which was reassuring. Starscream had plenty of tricks for looking like he was working on something mundane while trying to put together a plot to overthrow Megatron, so he didn't entirely trust their civility, but it would do for now.

"Megatron."

"Bumblebee."

"I gotta admit, it’s weird to have you be all polite to me," Bumblebee said, "What happened to just calling me ‘scout’?"

Megatron tapped his breastplate, just below the purple star insignia. He’d need to get that changed.

"You were the first to ever succeed in offlining me," Megatron said. "That deserves recognition."

Bumblebee looked queasy. "I didn’t do it for that."

Of course not, if that had been his motivation he wouldn’t have succeeded. Starscream never had.

"I suppose technically that makes you the leader of the Decepticons," Megatron said.

He laughed when Bumblebee spluttered.

"All hail Bumblebee," Arcee said as she entered the bridge.

Ultra Magnus's frown deepened. "Please refer to the updated crew ranking list I sent out."

"It's a joke, Magnus," Arcee said.

"So, are we gonna fix the world or what?" Bumblebee said brightly.

* * *

Things slowly settled into a promising shape for a continued ceasefire. It was rough, and there was still no sign of other Cybertronians returning yet, but it was _working_, which was more than Megatron could ever have expected without Optimus on the other side of the negotiating table.

Until basic shelters were erected and their fuel stocks had a decent backlog, everyone would take shifts at the construction site or the energon mine. It would be good for Megatron to engage in hard labour for Cybertron’s rebuilding. A reminder that he was not greater than the Autobots or the Vehicons. He had _lost_. And this was his penance.

Megatron spent most of his mornings going over business with Ultra Magnus, his days at the construction sites and mines, and his evenings with Flash. Sometimes Knock Out joined them.

(It was still tentative, fragile even. Megatron minding every word he said and Knock Out trying not to appear too friendly for fear of making the Autobots reconsider his freedom. Most of the time was spent safely discussing Flash and taking him on short excursions for enrichment.

If Megatron ever heard Ultra Magnus vocalise the words _sparkling enrichment_ again he was going to be down a fourth-in-command.)

The Vehicons had mostly gotten used to Megatron's presence at the construction site. They'd been used to working around the officers previously and it was only the instances when they had to interact directly with Megatron that they cowered.

It took most of a month before ex-Decepticons were persuaded to stop calling him _Lord_ Megatron and even then some dared not be more familiar than a _sir_ and most did their best to avoid using his name altogether. Megatron found himself somewhat ashamed of his previous habit of calling Vehicons _you_ all the time now he was on the receiving end.

Of course, the Autobots had never bothered with honorifics and had adapted quickly. Still, Knock Out was the only one to use Megatron's designation with any warmth.

And Flash, though Megatron wasn’t sure if his designation being squeaked at a pitch nearly too high for his audials to pick up could be counted as warm, even though the sparkling was always happy to see him.

It defied belief and Megatron jealously hoarded every scrap of affection Flash gave him.

* * *

Another morning meeting with Ultra Magnus. Normally Megatron looked forward to them, as Ultra Magnus was sensible and treated Megatron — correctly — as the head of an allied faction rather than an unwanted prisoner of war. Their meetings were usually the most structured part of Megatron's day.

This time Magnus had somehow corralled the rest of the Autobots and Knock Out into attending and Megatron had to put up with listening to the latest gossip until everyone arrived and Ultra Magnus started the meeting.

"As the construction of the mid-term living quarters is at ninety percent completion, we need to make plans for our next project and allocate resources appropriately," Ultra Magnus said, once he was done with the preliminaries and Flash was safely secured in his cage in the corner of the room. "Further goals may also be raised and put to vote. Are there any suggestions?"

"We could put more work into communications and get more Autobots back?" Smokescreen said. "More racers would be cool."

"Finding Shockwave should be our top priority," Megatron said. "The reconstruction of the Omega Lock and the cybermatter required to fuel it supersedes any minimal rebuilding we are currently capable of."

Megatron had studied Shockwave's reports on the development of his particular brand of cybernucleic acid before the end of the war, but couldn't recall them in enough detail to recreate the formula successfully and they'd been lost in the crash. He'd grown lax in his pursuit of sciences, preferring to deal with his problems with violence.

Perhaps it was something he should remedy, once Shockwave was back, since the need for combat should be decreased now the war was over.

"We can’t put the effort into finding Shockwave until we get our energon supply sorted," Bumblebee argued. "We should focus on scouting new energon deposits and making more drills."

He was still trying to fill Optimus’s pedeprints and lead. He would need more of a presence if he ever wished to succeed when their numbers increased.

Still, there were worse Autobots.

"It might be a good idea to get more housing built," Bulkhead offered. "There’s no point in refugees arriving and having nowhere to stay."

"Housing which would be constructed by the Omega Lock far more easily than by our own servos," Megatron said. "Shockwave’s skill is needed."

"I suppose you want to go find Starscream too? Or drag Soundwave out of the Shadowzone? Have a big Decepticon reunion," Arcee said.

"Soundwave still functions?" Megatron asked.

He’d thought that couldn't possibly be the case, otherwise Soundwave would have found some way to contact him and return. Megatron dared to allow himself to hope.

The Autobots exchanged a look, but the cyber-cat was out of the bag now.

"Soundwave will be able to find Shockwave far faster than any of us," Megatron said. "If there is a way to return Soundwave, we should do it."

"And how do we know what he’ll do upon being freed?" Arcee asked, optic ridge raised.

"Soundwave is loyal."

"Loyal to you, or loyal to the Decepticon cause?" Ultra Magnus asked pointedly.

There had been a time when one had implicitly meant the other. How long had it been since that had been the case? How long had Megatron refused to see how bad things had gotten?

"If he is loyal to me, there is no question of his path," Megatron said, "and I believe I can convince him of the sense of this ceasefire if he puts the Decepticons first."

"You’re forgetting that we don’t have a quick way to get to Earth. The _Nemesis’s_ Space Bridge coordinate list was lost in the crash and it’s not made for fast interstellar travel." Ratchet said. "Even the warp drive on the _Iron Will_ is broken. The journey would take months, if not years, with our current resources."

Shockwave would be useful for making a space bridge to reach Soundwave, but without Soundwave there was no finding Shockwave.

Another possibly occurred to Megatron.

"I have a superluminal space drive," he said, tapping his chest. "Courtesy of Unicron. Did you not think to question how I arrived at Cybertron so quickly after being left to rust on Earth?"

By the looks on the Autobots’ faces, they hadn't.

"The humans aren't going to be happy with you showing up alone," Arcee said. "And you’ll need to talk to them to get Soundwave’s location."

Threats might work if diplomacy failed, but Megatron knew better than to underestimate humans by now. He was confident he could strongarm any necessary information out of them, however, it might pose danger to Flash, even just by proxy, and that concept was intolerable.

"We could make a recording?" Smokescreen suggested.

"They'd think it was a trick," Bumblebee said.

"How big's your cockpit when you transform?" Wheeljack asked. "Arcee might —"

"_No!_" Megatron and Arcee snapped at the same time.

Gratifying to know the idea wasn't abhorrent to just Megatron. Arcee wasn't much bigger than Flash, she would probably be able to fit. However, the thought of a full day or more's journey with an Autobot strapped inside him made Megatron's tanks clench in disgust.

His cockpit was for Flash, and Flash alone.

"Am I the only one who sees the clear course of action?" Knock Out said, leaning lazily against the table.

"If you have a suggestion, make it known," Ultra Magnus said.

"Megatron has a superluminal drive. The _Iron Will_ needs one." Knock Out said, holding up a servo for each item. "It's a simple surgery."

"I bet I could get it wired up to the ol’ bucket if the doc extracts it from Megatron," Wheeljack added.

"I dunno," Bulkhead said uneasily. "Sounds a bit creepy."

"It _is_ medically viable," Ratchet said, with a grimace. "Though forbidden back in Cybertron’s Golden Age. But then the opposite was too — that is: using non-living metal for repairs — and I’ve done my share of that during the war."

"I don’t care what the elites of the Golden Age would have wanted," Megatron snapped. "Either take my drive to fix the _Iron Will_ and placate your human pets or don’t complain when I use it to travel to Earth and retrieve Soundwave alone."

The Autobots glared at him. Losing his temper was a bad idea, however, Megatron hadn’t started a war to wind up straight back in the failings of Cybertron’s corruption.

"If we have made all necessary arguments on this matter?" Ultra Magnus said. "I would like to second Bumblebee's suggestion for heavier emphasis on replenishing our energon stocks."

And so it went. Meetings by committee made Megatron miss the simpler days of running a dictatorship.

Eventually, they came to the end of the meeting — before Flash needed his nap, thankfully. Soundwave's retrieval was put at top priority and Megatron left the medics arguing over who was going to perform his surgery.

"Never get involved in group projects," Megatron told Flash, as he plucked him out of the cage.

Flash frowned. "I like being with friends."

_Autobots aren’t your friends_, Megatron wanted to snap. He held his glossa; the Autobots had done well enough by Flash this past month, despite what they no doubt thought about his lineage. Peace was about cooperation and if it took a sparkling to facilitate that, then Megatron should be glad it was so simple.

* * *

Knock Out had won the argument between him and Ratchet over who got to slice Megatron open and tear out a vital part of him. Megatron was glad. Ratchet’s pride might not have allowed him to botch a surgery, but Megatron knew Knock Out and had managed to quiet the paranoid part of his processor enough to allow him to make alterations previously.

Knock Out’s superior knowledge of flight frames was also highly desirable.

There was still a lump of trepidation sitting in Megatron's tanks as he settled himself on the medical slab. Which was ridiculous. He'd had major surgeries before, he'd even gone through the rigorous process of changing vehicle mode in the past from something slow and grounded to a space-worthy craft, he shouldn't be concerned because a competent surgeon was going to do his job.

But then, the last major alteration Megatron had gone through hadn't been his choice and the lingering dread had him wanting to go without stasis.

Megatron clenched his fists. He was stronger than this. He was stronger than Unicron. He was —

— _your husk will simply be an instrument of my will_ —

Megatron shut his optics and concentrated on venting.

"Megatron?" Knock Out's voice was indistinct like they were trying to communicate without comms underwater.

"Don't induce stasis," Megatron blurted, then silently cursed himself for showing weakness.

"This isn't like a replacement arm," Knock Out said. "I can't risk you twitching when I'm dealing with such fine circuitry and doing permanent damage. I need to put you under."

"I can handle pain."

"What about boredom?" Knock Out pushed. "An itchy plate? You need to be _still_. Look —" he pointed at the monitor where the scan he’d just taken of Megatron was displayed, "— the superluminal drive is thoroughly connected to the rest of your flight and navigational systems. It’s going to take a _long_ time to unhook if you still want to be able to fly once I’m through."

Megatron said nothing, trying to either find the words to explain himself to Knock Out or persuade himself to go through with it. His processor spun fruitlessly.

"The door will be locked," Knock Out said. "No one can override my authority when I’m in surgery — save for yourself, of course. The Autobots won’t be allowed inside while you’re in stasis."

"If you do more than remove my drive — even something you _think_ I might want — then I will be raising Flash alone." Megatron hissed, frustration boiling over. "Do you understand me, Knock Out?"

Strangely, the threat made Knock Out’s faceplates brighten with understanding. He gave his easy smile and held out his servos as if showing that he was unarmed. As if he didn't have deadly weapons beneath his plating.

"Of course, my liege," Knock Out said. "You are in control here. I will do nothing you don’t want me to."

Perversely, the title made Megatron feel better, despite the guilt that settled in his tanks at the setback. He managed to loosen his fists and let out a deep ex-vent. It was going to be fine. Knock Out knew the consequences for failure and he wanted Megatron alive, at least for now.

He would be safe.

"Inducing stasis." Knock Out tapped the machine hooked up to Megatron. "Count backwards from ten, Lord Megatron."

"Ten, nine, eig…"

_Darkness._

* * *

Megatron had thought he’d feel worse for having had part of him surgically removed, but instead, there was an unmistakable flood of relief as he caught sight of the twisted purple drive, still flecked with energon, sitting on the lab bench. A piece of Unicron’s undesired upgrade — gone.

Wheeljack was examining it thoughtfully.

"It’s not like any other superluminal drives I’ve worked with," he finally said, "but I reckon I can jury-rig it."

Megatron tried to sit up and groaned.

"Easy." Knock Out was there to support him instantly. "Your navigational systems needed hard rewiring and it’s going to take a few hours for the new routing to settle in. Don’t try and transform until you can walk in a straight line at least."

The medbay tilted alarmingly as Megatron got to his pedes, leaning heavily on Knock Out. Too heavily. Knock Out made a noise of protest, then collapsed to his knees. Megatron stumbled and had to grab the wall to avoid falling flat on his face.

Wheeljack snorted. Megatron tried to glare at him but turned the wrong way.

Damn his repairing navigation systems.

"I’ll get this plugged in," Wheeljack said, tossing the drive carelessly in one servo. "Later, ‘Cons."

Knock Out got to his pedes as Wheeljack left. Megatron stayed close to the wall, his gyros were trying to tell him he was upside down and he was certain if he tried to take a step he’d fall.

Surgical tools still covered most of the surfaces of the medbay. A thought wormed its way into Megatron's processor.

"This augmented armour," Megatron said, "can you remove it?"

Knock Out stared. "Just a few hours ago you were threatening me with death if I tried anything like that. What's changed?"

"Distancing myself from Unicron’s alterations will be good."

"No," Knock Out said slowly. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s _you_ now. I removed your superluminal space drive because we needed it — not to mention that it was putting an unhealthy strain on your other systems now you’ve reduced your dark energon count — but I don’t think it’s a good idea to completely remove anything else."

"Surely just the —"

"No!" This time Knock Out’s voice was harsh. "That’s not how it goes. First, it’s _just_ a replacement glossa, then it’s the coolant piping because _it doesn’t really do anything_. The next thing I know you’ll be asking for a new _processor!_ I’m _not_ doing that again!"

Megatron had rarely seen Knock Out so worked up.

"You’re replaced my arm and countless other systems before," Megatron said. "Why is it different this time?"

"Because there’s no _reason_ behind it. You think this will make you feel better and it _won’t_." Knock Out met Megatron’s optics. "Trust me on this, Lord Megatron, if not as your doctor then as the carrier of your sparkling and the only one on this ship who has ever offered you true loyalty. Surgery _won’t help_."

"I thought we were past titles."

"If it’s the only way you’ll listen, I’ll call you whatever you want," Knock Out said. "Master."

There it was, the pull to oppress not yet eradicated. It would be so easy to accept, to force Knock Out to bend to his will through threat of violence or worse.

And he _would_ fold. Megatron knew it, just like —

—_purple lightning_ — _a sparkling's screams_—

"Don’t." Megatron took a step back, tanks churning. "_Don’t_."

"Okay," Knock Out said softly.

What had become of them, that _Megatron_ recoiled and Knock Out was gentle?

Megatron mastered himself. He may exist in an unwanted frame and have trauma down to his very spark, but his processor was clear. No petty god would best him in his own mind.

"So you won't help."

"I can offer a buff and wax or a new lick of paint," Knock Out said, voice lighter. "Nothing makes me feel better like a good clean and polish."

There was much that was appealing about the offer; Knock Out's company and care could help. However, the last thing Megatron wanted was such scrutiny on his frame.

"No."

"Suit yourself." Knock Out shrugged, probably glad to avoid touching Megatron where he could. "Good luck on getting Soundwave back, I’m feeling somewhat outnumbered with the Autobots having the run of the place."

It had been some time since anyone had wished Megatron luck. He bit his glossa to avoid pressing for the sort of _luck_ fans used to offer him back in the gladiatorial arena.

Knock Out was out of his league and he should remember that.

* * *

Earth was located several lightyears away from Cybertron. With their long-range communications systems still non-operational, the Autobots hadn't received any messages from their human pets. They'd sent plenty, however, as they only had sub-luminal communication methods available, it was all but certain that the _Iron Will_ and its selected crew would arrive _long_ before the messages did.

As the only one capable of correctly explaining the situation to Soundwave, Megatron was going. Wheeljack was coming to be both pilot and potential mechanic if something happened to the ship and Smokescreen hadn't shut up until Ultra Magnus had put him on the crew roster too.

Ratchet was also coming, as he would be able to help Soundwave if there was a medical emergency and he had plans for staying on Earth once they'd re-established the Space Bridge linkup. However, the closer the departure time came, the more he made noises about not wanting to leave Knock Out as the only functional medic on Cybertron.

Megatron had rescued Flash from the ensuing argument and promptly realised that no one had spent any time explaining what exactly was going on to the sparkling.

"You’re _leaving?_"

Megatron had endured Optimus’s disappointment, yet Flash’s innocent upset was far more spark-rending.

"It’s only temporary." Megatron tried to reassure him. "I will not be gone for long."

"But what if Unicron comes back?" Flash squeaked.

"He won’t," Megatron promised.

"But what if he _does?_"

"Then the Autobots will protect you," Megatron said. "Knock Out too."

"But I want _you_ to protect me," Flash hiccoughed.

Megatron knelt and tiled Flash’s helm up.

"You are of my spark and my code; you can be brave," Megatron said firmly. "You _will_ be brave and, above all, you must learn to rely on yourself alone. I will not always be here to protect you."

"I —"

"Everyone here survived a multi-millennium long war," Megatron continued. "If Unicron does come back — which he won’t — they will be able to keep you safe. And if the Autobots fail… it had better be because they all extinguished before you or I will have their sparks in vengeance. You are the hope for our future, I expect you to act like it."

Flash gave him a wobbly smile. "No quailing."

An odd way to phrase it, but at least the message seemed to have gotten across.

"No quailing," Megatron agreed, standing again. "Now, where are the doctors? They should be here already and you should go home."

Flash hugged Megatron's knees. "'lmiss you."

"I will miss you too, Flash."

* * *

"_Uuuuurgh_, it's so boring!" Smokescreen complained.

Megatron let out a controlled vent. He had dealt with Starscream for millennia, he could handle a few days in an enclosed environment with an Autobot brat.

"How long until we get there?" Smokescreen leant over the pilot’s seat, startling Wheeljack out of the light recharge he’d fallen into.

Of course, Megatron had been allowed to beat Starscream to scrap whenever he wanted and that had been wonderfully therapeutic.

Ratchet had declined to join them on the trip after all, citing the need for experienced servos where sparklings were concerned. Knock Out had gone into even more of a snit over that and Megatron had been grateful for the chance to get away from the drama.

Megatron rather thought Ratchet had preferred to avoid being stuck in a small space with the three of them, even for just a few days.

"We said it wasn’t going to be exciting." Wheeljack stretched, clocking Smokescreen across the helm as he did so.

Interesting; accidental damage was fine.

Megatron shook his helm to clear his processor. Injuring Autobots, even unintentionally, was likely to end up causing more trouble than any brief satisfaction it might bring.

"I’ve never been in space properly before," Smokescreen said, "I thought there’d be a better view or _something_."

"Then how did you get to Earth?" Megatron asked.

"In stasis in a Decepticon escape pod," Smokescreen said with a grin, "After I bravely escaped from a Decepticon prison ship."

"Which ship?"

Smokescreen shrugged. "They didn’t exactly give us a tour. Why? Want to know which of your old lackeys I gave the slip?"

"Curious if your escape was planned for sport," Megatron said.

"Hey!"

Wheeljack shot Megatron an annoyed glare then pointedly settled into recharge again. Smokescreen stomped off to the back of the ship. Megatron tried to relax.

"I think I heard something," Smokescreen said.

Megatron and Wheeljack both ignored him.

"Guys! I’m serious!"

"Then look yourself," Megatron snapped, "but if you damage this ship and leave us stranded I’ll tear out your spark."

"You’re not allowed to do that anymore," Smokescreen said.

"Kid, you’ve put me in the position of having to agree with Megatron," Wheeljack said. "Vocaliser off and no explosions while we’re in hyperspace."

The show of support was surprising. Perhaps Smokescreen’s company was good for something after all.

There were a blessed ten minutes of mostly silence as Smokescreen poked through the cupboards in the back of the ship. Megatron relaxed.

"Uh, on a scale of one to Unicron being back, how bad would it be if we were leaking fuel?"

There was a second of silence as Megatron processed that, then he was fighting Wheeljack for space to see what Smokescreen was talking about. The Wrecker had pointy elbows and he wasn’t afraid to use them.

Smokescreen was knelt by an expanding pool of energon, frantically trying to hold back a leak in the main fuel pod.

"Scraplet," Wheeljack hissed, grabbing a repair kit and joining Smokescreen. "Megatron, find it and kill it before it eats through anything else. I’ll do what I can about the leak."

"What about me?" Smokescreen asked.

"Stay where you are. I mean it." Wheeljack pointed at him with a roll of adhesive mesh. "It’s gonna be tricky enough repairing this _with_ you plugging the leak."

Megatron changed the filters in his optics. If the scraplet had hit their fuel container, it had likely been coated in energon. Energon was easy to track, it glowed under the visible spectrum already, but lit up brilliantly under ultraviolet.

Tracks led away from the pod. Odd tracks for a scraplet. There could be more than one, or it could be a mutated scraplet. They normally came in swarms and were too fragile to survive in space, so for one to have reached them was unthinkable.

Unless it had gotten onto the ship back on Cybertron. Which meant Flash, Knock Out, and the Autobots were in danger.

The tracks weaved back and forth and eventually led back to the cockpit. Something launched itself out of the shadows at Megatron's helm with a shout. Megatron snatched it out of the air and forcibly killed off his reactive combat module before it could respond further to the threat.

It wasn't the first time he'd been pounced on in this manner — Knock Out had a lot to answer for when it came to the games he'd taught his sparkling.

"Hi, Megatron!" Flash squeaked.

Flash shouldn’t be here. Yet here he was. Covered in energon and nearly vibrating from what was likely to be several gulps of heavily refined spaceship-quality fuel, the sort that sparklings were never meant to so much as smell.

Knock Out was going to _kill_ him.

"I believe I’ve found our scraplet," Megatron said, holding his prize aloft for the others to see.

"Hey, little buddy," Smokescreen grinned.

"Damn, he did this?" Wheeljack grunted as he secured another layer of mesh. "You should think about getting those claws trimmed."

Judging by the energon still dribbling down his chin, Flash had used his denta to get the tank open. Megatron took Flash back to the pilot's seat and tried to judge how much energon he'd drunk from the _Iron Will's_ gauges and Flash's current temperature.

More than a sip, at least.

"So the good news is we've got enough fuel left to reach Earth," said Wheeljack, wiping off his servos. "The bad news is we won't be getting back to Cybertron anytime soon. We could try a U-turn, but at the speeds we're going we might stall out and get stranded."

"Soundwave has coordinates of several energon mines that were only partially depleted," Megatron said. "Assuming you didn't blow them all up."

"I might've left a few intact." Wheeljack patted the wall of the ship, smearing fuel. "It’s still going to take time refining raw energon enough for this girl."

"So… If we’re stuck on Earth, can I go pick up a new paint job?" Smokescreen asked.

Megatron readjusted his grip on Flash and sighed. This was going to be a much longer trip than he’d thought.

* * *

"Calm down." Megatron wrestled a wriggling Flash back into his hold yet again.

Flash was fidgeting so fast he was practically vibrating. It took every last scrap of Megatron's concentration to keep him in one place and not further damaging their engines. His usual strategy of telling Flash heavily-edited war stories wasn’t enough to hold his attention.

Flash slumped in Megatron's arms, finally going still. He must have burnt off the excess energon. Megatron ex-vented and settled him into a more comfortable position then caught sight of his face.

Flash's optics were dangerously white. He'd crashed and crashed hard.

Megatron's fuel pump seized.

"Flash?" Megatron tore open Flash’s diagnostics panel, denting the metal in his haste. "Flash?!" Unicron’s upgrade had tried to seal over Megatron’s own diagnostics and he had to transform half his forearm guard out of the way before he could even get his claws in deep enough to start prising the cover open. "_Flash!_"

Grey servos grabbed Megatron’s wrist. His processor nearly crashed as his combat routines clashed with his fritzing creator protocols and he couldn’t recognise who was in front of him for a fraught second.

"Megatron, calm down," Wheeljack said, speaking very slowly and carefully. "It's just a bit of ship-grade — hardly lethal, even to a newspark. We've got the equipment to do a fuel transfer so we can get it out of his system faster. I can get you hooked up and have the bitlet rebooted in no time."

That was good. That was definitely good.

Except —

"My energon is unsuitable," Megatron said numbly. His tanks were still churning and he couldn't get them to _stop_.

"Oh, slag. Dark energon still a thing?" Wheeljack said. "Alright, c'mere, kid."

"Me?" Smokescreen blinked. "But doesn’t Flash have dark energon too? Is it going to make me go all Unicron-y? I like the way I already look."

"It’s fine," Wheeljack said, grabbing Smokescreen’s arm and inserting a fuel line none too gently.

Smokescreen didn’t look happy, but he let Wheeljack situate Flash against his chest and hook up the rest. Bright green energon flowed from Flash into Smokescreen and a much healthier blue flowed from Smokescreen to Flash.

"Let me know if your optics stop working," Wheeljack said.

"That can happen?!"

Megatron fidgeted, servos clenching and unclenching. He despised feeling helpless and yet it was happening all too often of late.

His days in the Pits of Kaon had been so much simpler. Harder, yes, but it was no place for fragile sparks and Megatron could forge blindly ahead without fear for who he had left behind when he clawed his way out, stained with energon and rust.

It had been too long since anyone had gazed up at Megatron with bright, innocent optics, confident that he wouldn’t hurt them.

He wouldn’t lose that.

Yet, all he could do was watch and wait as Wheeljack and Smokescreen helped his sparkling where he was unable to.

Megatron forced himself away from the scene and went to check on their progress. The navigator informed him that they’d just reached the edge of Earth’s diminutive solar system. Not long now.

* * *

Earth was the third planet from the local sun, but its communications capabilities were so poor they had to bypass the system's asteroid belt before the signal connected. Wheeljack spent some time tuning the frequency on humans’ narrow bandwidths before words were able to be made out, and longer still to get through pleasantries and shrieks that contact had been re-established at all.

Megatron didn’t know what he found more sickening; the way the humans were gushing over the Autobots or the way the Autobots were gushing right back.

"… It's me, Smokescreen, and two extras." Wheeljack side-eyed Megatron as he spoke. "Megatron and Knock —"

He was cut off by spluttering on the other end of the line.

"_Megatron?_" The human squeaked. "Isn't he the enemy? And dead?"

"Not at the moment, we've got a ceasefire."

"Yeah," Smokescreen chipped in, sounding like Flash’s energon was hitting his systems hard, "all happy familiesh. Heh."

"Trust me," Wheeljack said. "I know it sounds bad, but it's an unfortunate necessity."

The humans didn't sound enthusiastic but nonetheless directed Wheeljack to an aircraft hangar in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t _look_ like a trap, but Megatron had learnt the hard way to consider humans a credible threat, so kept his combat modules in background processing as they touched down.

There were only four organic life-signs in the hangar. Megatron followed Wheeljack out of the _Iron Will_ and scanned the surroundings before focusing his attention on them.

The children were clustered together around the lone adult, staring at Megatron in open disgust and fear. This is what Optimus had fought to save.

"Wow, sick upgrade," the one called Miko said, putting on an impressive front for a tiny fleshling.

"Sweet stars and stripes, is that a baby 'Bot?" Fowler stared at Smokescreen, who had just emerged with Flash in his arms and still hooked up.

"Looking cute there, little guy," Miko said. "Can he transform yet?"

Smokescreen lowered himself to the floor, using the wall for support, letting Miko’s questions pour over him and Flash. He was starting to get a greenish flush from the ship-grade energon flooding his lines. Megatron kept an optic on him.

"Uh, yeah, sorry we didn’t mention it, Agent Fowler," Jack said, "but newborn safety or something like that?"

"Don’t worry about it, son." Fowler waved him off and stared at Flash. "I’m just surprised Arcee let anyone knock her up, that’s all."

"Arcee isn't his carrier," Megatron said, "he's far too big to be a two-wheeler's progeny."

"But I thought there hadn't been any new Cybertronians on Cybertron yet?"

Wheeljack looked as confused as Megatron felt.

"What do new Cybertronians have to do with anything?" He asked.

"Wait, I think I know this one," Smokescreen said, looking up from his position sprawled against the wall, Flash still secure in his arms. "Humans can only carry _or_ sire, right? Not both."

"Yeah, Agent Fowler, Knock Out’s his mom." Miko rolled her eyes. "Get with the times."

So, the Autobots had explained Cybertronian reproduction to their child allies, but not their military ones. Interesting. Perhaps they weren’t as trusting of these aliens as Megatron thought.

"Do, uh, ‘Con babies need a dad too?" Fowler asked, remarkably composed.

"Knock Out said it was Dreadwing," Raf said.

"Knock Out said _what?!_"

The humans all jumped at Megatron’s roar. It was amazing how much attention sparklings could hold. A few months ago, Megatron would have made a note to start running simulations to take advantage of such a weakness, but now it just made him tired.

"I’m guessing Knock Out lied?" Fowler said.

"Flash was struck from my spark," Megatron said. "He is my son, not Dreadwing’s."

The humans stared at Megatron, expressions ranging from utter disbelief to disgust. Megatron revved his engine in warning, he would _not_ put up with any negative comments on Flash's lineage.

"We’re getting off-topic." Fowler decided to avoid the topic entirely. Sensible. "Not that we don’t appreciate the visit — from _some_ of you at least — but why come back to Earth now?"

"Soundwave," Megatron said. "We’re going to release him from the Shadowzone."

"What? Bad enough we’ve got to play nice to _you_. We’re not letting that faceless freak out!" Fowler snapped.

Intimidation was an old game to Megatron. One he’d been practising _long_ before the human race had slimed its way into this facsimile of sentience. He took a step forward and glared down.

"You seem to be under the impression that we require your permission."

The children flinched away. Fowler was made of sterner stuff and kept his ground, but Megatron’s infrared sensors picked up the chill of fear.

"Hey, we’re all friends here." Wheeljack interjected himself between Megatron and Fowler. "Put it this way. Either we get Soundwave out now and take him with us, or we go back to Cybertron and leave Sounders to find his own way out and when he does he takes his anger out on Earth — ‘cause hey, he doesn’t exactly know the war’s over."

Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a nightmare to explain to the Pentagon. Why isn’t Prime here? He’s got the authority to make a statement I can use — as far as my superiors are concerned anyway."

The silence fell on the Cybertronian side this time. Unicron’s poisonous blood gripped Megatron’s spark for a second and his emotional subsystems _grieved_.

"Did something happen to Optimus?" Jack asked.

"Optimus is one with the Allspark," Wheeljack said grimly. "His sacrifice stopped Unicron from destroying Cybertron."

"He’s dead?" Jack said. "And he’s not coming back?"

"Not this time," Wheeljack said.

Miko glared at Megatron. "Why do _you_ get to come back and Optimus doesn’t?" she spat.

"If I could have taken Optimus’s place, I would have," Megatron said. "Do not think you are alone in your grief."

"Yeah, I bet you’re _real_ cut up about it," said Fowler.

It would be so, _so_ easy to rid the planet of its human plague. Megatron had destroyed more advanced civilisations for less.

But Optimus wouldn’t want that and Megatron would honour his wishes. For now.

"Do not presume to know my thoughts, _human_."

Wheeljack reset his vocaliser and pointedly looked over at Smokescreen, who was slumping further down the wall by the second. Megatron took the hint. Arguments with insensitive humans could wait until Flash was better and Soundwave had been returned to them.

Megatron left Wheeljack to it and went to check on Smokescreen. Flash’s optics were still unseeing, but had faded back to a much healthier pink. The rocket-fuel was leaving his system with no sign of lingering issues. A medic would have to look over him once they were back on Cybertron, but, for now, Megatron could finally relax his screaming creator protocols.

"Hey, Megs," Smokescreen slurred. "‘Slittle guy okay?"

"Yes, he’s recovering well," Megatron said. "Good work, Smokescreen."

Smokescreen beamed. He was ridiculously overcharged. And very young.

Sparklings and battle-weary warriors, that was all the war had wrought. Sometimes the demolition of the caste-system didn't feel worth it.

But then Megatron would look at Flash and know he'd never be enslaved in the fighting pits or the mines purely based on his frame-type or where he’d been born, and that was worth any number of deactivated bots.

* * *

After much discussion — their selected group had perhaps not been the most diplomatic nor the most welcome — the humans agreed to cough up Soundwave's Shadowzone coordinates, provided he and Megatron left Earth as soon as the _Iron Will_ was travel-worthy.

Megatron would be the one to fetch Soundwave, being the only flight-capable Cybertronian available.

"It won't work if Soundwave isn't there anymore," Raf warned. "He might have gone somewhere else."

"We will deal with that if it happens," Megatron said. He ducked his helm out of the hangar, clear skies. Good flying weather, easy for Soundwave to traverse even if he was in poor repair. "Is the Ground Bridge ready?"

"Yes," Raf said. He bit his lip, fleshy digits flexing over his laptop keyboard. "What if… what if Soundwave wants revenge?"

Megatron laughed. Raf flinched.

"I don’t want him to attack us!" Raf said, voice cracking higher than Flash’s.

"Unless the Shadowzone is a torture, Soundwave should accept his defeat with grace," Megatron said. "Revenge has its place and this is not it."

"But what if he does?"

"Then I will stop him," Megatron vowed. He could easily take a half-starved Soundwave. "However, Soundwave knows better than to place his own vengeance over the Cause."

"The Decepticon Cause," Jack put in.

"And what do you think that is?" Megatron asked, curious as to what the Autobots had told them.

"Subjugation."

Megatron laughed again. "Do you truly believe I inspired half a planet on the platform of _subjugation?_ No. The lowest castes were the ones subjugated, I merely convinced them to _rise up_."

Jack made a sound of disbelief.

"Do you know what Cybertron was like before the war?" Megatron asked. "A caste-system that would see a sparkling like Flash snuffed before his first moult because he wasn’t created by the high-caste and only they had the right to breed as they liked. Say what you like about me and my Decepticons, but do not pretend that Cybertron's Golden Age Council was any better."

"The Autobots are better," Jack said determinedly.

"And if the Autobots had been in charge some twelve thousand years ago, there would have been less need for Decepticons," Megatron said. "I did what I had to do."

Jack scowled. Twice, he opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. Megatron waited, curious as to what still consumed him.

"You know, if you want us to believe you're good, an apology would help," Jack eventually said.

"An apology." Megatron fought the urge to laugh.

"Yeah, so we know you're sorry? About trying to destroy Earth?"

"I would destroy Earth in a sparkbeat to save Cybertron," Megatron said. "I do not regret my actions against your species or your planet."

Jack glared. Perhaps if he'd been able to meet Megatron's optics without craning his neck it might have been effective.

"Do you know what happened to Breakdown's remains?" Megatron asked.

Jack was taken aback. "You mean MECH?"

"Picture this, if you will: I have had limited contact with humans," Megatron said. "The ones I know have either sided with my enemies or created abominations with my troops. Why should I believe that humans and their planet are worth anything more than extermination?"

"That was just some humans!" Jack protested. "You're wrong."

"How so?"

"It's… You…" Jack was flustered. "It doesn't mean you're right just because I can't think of an argument!"

"Of course not," Megatron said patronisingly.

Jack forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. More mature than most Autobots Megatron had fought — somewhat impressive.

"You're wrong and we deserve an apology," Jack said firmly.

"One I'm not inclined to give."

"The Ground Bridge is ready," Raf interrupted. "Can we… can we get Soundwave out now?"

He was right, this was a distraction — one that Megatron might jeopardise their mission with if he continued provoking the humans.

"Send me the coordinates," Megatron ordered. "The sooner I retrieve him, the sooner we can leave this mudball."

* * *

Earth's air thinned quickly as Megatron flew upwards. It was a much smaller planet than Cybertron and had less atmosphere to match. Thankfully it also got drier, once Megatron had reached the mesosphere, and he didn't have to hold his plating uncomfortably tight to avoid moisture — Ratchet had given him a long list of _dos_ and _don'ts_ to ensure that whatever potential rust infection he'd picked up from the bottom of the ocean wasn't aggravated enough to actually materialise.

It was comfortably silent in the upper-atmosphere and Megatron took a long moment to relish the peace before pinging the humans with his location.

"_You're about a quarter of a mile off_," Raf said.

"Close enough. Open the Bridge."

A portal swirled to life in the near-distance. Megatron angled towards it.

He arrived and transformed just as there was a crack of light and Soundwave flew out of the Ground Bridge.

He appeared unharmed. When he transformed, however, his plating was shaky as it snapped into place and he took a second longer than usual to come to attention.

Not that the Autobots would be likely to notice, given their lack of familiarity, however, Megatron was still glad he'd chosen to confront Soundwave alone.

"Soundwave," Megatron said, surprised at how warm his vocaliser brought the designation out.

Soundwave inclined his helm.

Megatron let his slight momentum bring him into Soundwave's space and placed a servo on Soundwave’s thin shoulder. It was good to see him again. He’d been by Megatron’s side for so long — and hopefully would be for even longer yet.

"A lot has changed since you’ve been gone." Megatron transformed. "Come, I will explain while we travel to a safe place."

They'd be taking the long way back to give Megatron a chance to explain and, should Soundwave turn hostile, deal with the issue away from Flash.

Soundwave used his datacables to bring himself closer and crouched on Megatron's roof, plastering himself as flat as possible in the limited space. His plating wasn't made for efficient re-entry, so Megatron would shield him from the worst of it.

Laserbeak trilled as Megatron started moving. Thank goodness. Persuading Soundwave that their current ceasefire was sensible would be easy. Persuading Soundwave not to take vengeance for Laserbeak would be impossible.

"It began shortly after I was killed…"

* * *

Explaining took less time than Megatron had expected. Soundwave listened to the summary of events and only pinged a few questions over their shared channel in response.

"It's not what we hoped for," Megatron said, "but I want you by my side for the reconstruction of Cybertron."

Soundwave pulled up an old recording and Megatron's own voice echoed back to him.

"— _We will fight. We will fight until every Cybertronian is equal. Until every Cybertronian can follow their dreams and the caste system is no more_—"

"And we've succeeded there," Megatron said, bemused. "So, you will join our efforts?"

Soundwave bobbed in the air as a nod, his vehicle mode cutting through Earth's clear skies smoothly. Megatron felt relief light up his emotional circuits.

"Good."

They landed outside the hangar. Megatron scanned for life-signs and an unbidden smile crossed his face when he noticed the littlest spark signature was up and running around.

"There's one more thing —" Megatron opened the hangar door and ducked inside.

"Megatron!"

Soundwave was taken aback by the bolt of red and purple that flung itself at Megatron's shin.

"There's a sparkling," Megatron finished.

Flash stared up at Soundwave, optics suspicious. Soundwave stared back. Megatron wasn't sure which way he'd be more upset if one took exception to the other.

"Flash, this is Soundwave," Megatron said, "Soundwave, this is Flash. Knock Out's sparkling."

Soundwave looked up at Megatron, CNA code displayed on his visor.

"I'm sure you can work out the potential sires," Megatron said.

Millennia of knowing one another let Megatron read Soundwave's flat, unimpressed look without difficulty.

"I don't have to put up with this from my third in command."

"— _the Decepticons are finished_ —"

Megatron laughed. "I've missed you, Soundwave."

Soundwave gave a happy nod.

"Can I see Laserbeak?" Flash asked, having gotten over his wariness enough to grab at Soundwave's leg. "He's little, like me, isn't he?"

Soundwave obligingly released Laserbeak into his servos and knelt down so Flash could see properly. Laserbeak fluttered his wings, making Flash giggle.

Megatron fetched a couple of cubes of energon from their — thankfully un-Flash-ed — stores on the _Iron Will_ and handed one to Soundwave.

Soundwave whistled to Laserbeak and situated him carefully on his chest so they could both benefit from the energon. Megatron stayed between them and the curious humans.

Flash stumbled up to Megatron's leg and grabbed him.

"Have you been fed?" Megatron asked, offering the second cube.

Flash nodded. "I purged on Smoke," he said quietly. He yawned.

Megatron picked him up, still marvelling that Flash was comfortable enough to cuddle up to him. He was so small and light.

"Recharge," Megatron said, patting his back.

"Not tired," Flash mumbled, obviously lying.

Megatron caught sight of the humans watching. Miko had a device out and was taking pictures, while the others were exchanging strange looks. Reading humans was always more difficult than Cybertronians. They had faces capable of expression, unlike some mechs, but they were _tiny_ and Megatron's optics weren't calibrated to such fine detail.

Soundwave got Megatron's attention and pulled up Space Bridge calculations on his visor. Megatron didn't dare hope.

"Can you activate it without the _Nemesis's_ systems?"

Soundwave nodded.

They weren't stuck on Earth. Thank the Allspark.

"Wheeljack, how long until the ship is ready?"

Wheeljack pulled himself out of the _Iron Will's_ engines with a grunt. Oil and energon stained his arms up to the elbows, despite his attempts to wipe it off with a well-used cloth.

"An hour at most," Wheeljack said. "Still gonna need that refined energon though, we’ve got maybe one k’ left in the tanks. Not enough to get to Cybertron."

"Soundwave can operate the Space Bridge."

"That simplifies things," Wheeljack said. "Guess Smoke's gonna have to wait for his new paint job."

Smokescreen was still recharging, burning off his lingering overcharge. Dark blue sparkling regurgitation was staining half his torso and one arm. It looked like he hadn't woken when Flash had purged and Wheeljack had been too busy to do more than extract Flash and give Smokescreen a quick wipe-down.

At least it wasn't Knock Out. Megatron would never hear the end of it, given how much of a stain energon left on red paint.

Soundwave approached Raf, then shot out a data cable to attach to his laptop.

"Hey!" Raf yelped, jumping back.

"Leave him alone!" Jack shouted, pushing Raf behind him.

Soundwave finished his file transfer and stepped back to Megatron's side. He pulled up some silent videos of old gladiator fights on his visor for Flash, who was still snuggled in Megatron's arms and drifting into recharge.

"Weird," Miko declared.

"It's a bit of code," Raf said, getting closer to his laptop, despite Jack's cautious arm. "It looks like Ground Bridge controls. No, wait." He started typing. "It's _Space_ Bridge controls. I think we can send messages to Cybertron using the Space Bridge, but not firing the whole thing up and spending a ton of energy. We can communicate in real-time with the Autobots!"

"Why would he give you something like that?" Jack asked, still suspicious.

"You defeated Soundwave," Megatron said, "does no one but Decepticons accept the right of spoils?"

"Sounds kinda barbaric," Jack said, but he was starting to relax.

"An easy stance to take when you haven’t had to fight for your life every day of your existence," Megatron said.

"Hey, don’t complain about a war _you_ started," Jack said.

"Did Optimus never tell you of the Pits of Kaon? I was a gladiator once." Megatron smiled. "As was Soundwave. You fought, or you starved. That’s what it meant to be low-caste."

He let that sink in for a moment, before adding.

"And you are sorely mistaken if you believe I started the war. I may have made the first counterstrike, but it was the High Council's decision to instate and keep the caste system that made the war inevitable."

Jack looked like he wanted to argue further, but Miko bounced close to the edge of the railing again and grinned at Soundwave.

"So, what do _we_ get?" Miko asked. "It was a team effort, taking down No-Face."

"I'm good with the Space Bridge communication stuff," Jack said hurriedly.

"You're no fun, Jack."

Soundwave turned his blank mask to Miko and waited.

"Can you get me a permanent visa?" Miko asked. "I hate having to fill in forms to travel."

"That's kinda illegal —" Jack started.

"My call’s gone through!" Raf interrupted, voice full of childish excitement. "Bee? Bee, are you there?"

The laptop speakers made an awful feedback noise that slowly faded to hissing static, then finally Bumblebee’s voice came through.

"_Raf? Is that you?_"

The humans crowded the laptop. Megatron wondered why it was so important, it was unlikely to have a video link, given the level of technology humans had reached.

"Bee!"

Megatron had to endure another round of sickening human-Autobot greetings. This truly was his punishment.

"_Oh, yeah, quick question: is Flash there? Knock Out's sparkling?_" Bumblebee asked.

"Yeah he's here," Raf said, with a glance at Megatron.

"_Good_." You could practically hear Bumblebee's slump of relief. "_Knock Out's been a bit… worried_."

Megatron managed not to wince by the barest of margins. He no longer held any titles over Knock Out that might curtail his — completely understandable — creator protocols going haywire at his sparkling vanishing without a trace. And given Flash’s recent diet, Megatron was sure to be in for an audialful even if Knock Out _had_ approved Flash’s excursion.

"He's with his dad," Miko said dismissively. "Isn't Bulk there yet? How long does it take to get to the phone?"

"_Dad? Oh, you mean Megatron._"

"We will return within two hours," Megatron interrupted before they could start talking uselessly again. "Soundwave has been retrieved and the Space Bridge is operational."

"_Sure_," Bumblebee said. "_Hey, Raf, you won't believe what I saw the other day_…"

And the conversation returned to mundane pleasantries. Megatron left audial-range for his own sanity.

Smokescreen was stirring when Megatron checked on him again. Still somewhat overcharged, he'd at least reached the point where he was mostly sober and the excess ship-grade was just making his tanks and processor hurt.

"I think I might give up high-grade for good," Smokescreen moaned, squinting at Megatron.

"I doubt that," Megatron said. The racers enjoyed joy-riding and drinking far too much.

Megatron helped Smokescreen to his pedes, then noticed that one of the humans had left the call and was watching Megatron and Smokescreen suspiciously.

"Do you need something?" Megatron growled.

"I want to know why you flipped sides," Fowler said determinedly. "I've got people to answer to and they're going to want to know what in the Sam Hill the Autobots' biggest enemy is doing; being all buddy-buddy with them after… how long did Prime say the war had been going on?"

Anger shot through Megatron at the casual use of Optimus's title. It was a calculated attack, he realised, but only after his engine had revved hard enough to make Soundwave look over from where he was monitoring the call.

"Twelve thousand years," Megatron replied, forcing himself to answer and not squash the human for daring to try and manipulate him.

"Heck of a long time," Fowler said. "So why switch now? And is it gonna stick?"

It was sensible to be attempting to assess the potential threat Megatron posed. It was also very annoying.

Smokescreen laughed and patted Megatron's arm, successfully drawing his ire away from the human.

"Haven't you seen the newspark?" Smokescreen said, still more charged than Megatron had accounted for. "Megs is all murcluryish over lil' Flashy."

He attempted to tickle Flash. Megatron grabbed his wrist before he could wake the sleeping sparkling.

"So, you gave up evil to become a dad," Fowler said with a snort of disbelief.

"Don't be absurd."

Smokescreen giggled. "'Sweird how you're all like one or the other."

"The reasons for my change of spark are none of your concern," Megatron said, swatting Smokescreen away again. "In the event that I return to my old ways, it is likely that you and everyone you know will be dead already."

"That's not as reassuring as you think it is," Fowler said. "Look, just give me something I can tell my superiors — or I'll have to ask an Autobot."

Megatron looked at Smokescreen, who had slumped on the floor again, clutching his tanks, and raised an optic ridge at Fowler.

"You know what I mean." Fowler rubbed his forehead.

"Then ask an Autobot," Megatron said. "I will not parade my failures for you to goggle at."

"So you screwed up, huh," Fowler said.

"I am done here." Megatron shook Smokescreen off his leg and returned to Soundwave.

It was still a massive relief that Soundwave was here and functioning.

"We'll be back on Cybertron soon," Megatron said, as much for his own sake as for Soundwave's.

* * *

"There you are!"

Flash gave a little squeak and gripped Megatron's servo tight. Megatron gave a reassuring squeeze back before turning to face the music.

"Knock Out."

"Hi, Knock Out," Flash said quietly, half hiding behind Megatron. At least he appeared to comprehend how much trouble he was in.

"Do you know how worried I've been?" Knock Out hissed. "Kidnapping my newspark — after what Unicron did!"

"He stowed away." Megatron felt obliged to defend himself.

"And how did a newspark get past two Autobots and the lord of the Decepticons? Smokescreen, I understand, but how did _you_ miss a newspark?! It's not like he's camouflaged!"

"He's small —" Megatron started.

"_Ha!_"

"He’s _small_," Megatron repeated, "and I thought that _you_ would be keeping a better optic on him."

"Oh, so now it’s _my_ fault?" Knock Out snarled.

An inappropriate wave of desire flooded Megatron's systems. Knock Out was stunning with his optics flashing and his denta bared over the thought of threat to his sparkling. Mechs were always at their best when fighting for what they cared about. And that Knock Out was brave enough to face down Megatron was the oil in the energon.

He liked the challenge. Pure fear was useless.

"Why don’t you ask _him_." Megatron grabbed Flash by the scruff of his armour and held him up in front of Knock Out. Flash squirmed, but was unable to break Megatron’s grip.

"Well?" Knock Out’s optics snapped to Flash.

"Umm…" Flash glanced between them, clearly trying to decide who he wanted less angry at him and come up with an appropriate lie. "Laserbeak said I could?"

"Nice try," Knock Out said, the bad lie absurdly making him relax.

"I just wanted to see Earth," Flash tried.

Megatron met Knock Out's optics and quirked an optic ridge. He got a hard stare in response — Knock Out thought Flash was still lying too.

"Megatron didn't know," Flash whispered, like he was trying to admit it while his creators were silently arguing.

"If you hadn't been lying just now I might have believed that," Knock Out said. Still, he was calmer and the truth could be extracted from Flash later.

Megatron swung Flash up and tossed him into the air. Flash shrieked with delight.

"You're going to become a skilled little Decepticon," Megatron said proudly, catching him easily.

"That's not a good thing," Knock Out said, but he was smiling.

His optics flicked up and down Megatron’s frame, then he schooled his faceplates into neutrality. For a moment, Megatron let himself believe it had been appreciation in his gaze, not disgust. He threw Flash in the air again.

"Again!" Flash demanded.

"You’ll make him purge," Knock Out warned. "Oh. Bumblebee said something about Smokescreen being purged on — was Earth’s atmosphere bad for Flash’s filters?"

Megatron winced.

"I drank the spaceship energon," Flash said. "Then I got it all over Smokescreen."

Knock Out went through a very focused venting cycle and shot a glare at Megatron — that low pulse of _want_ reared its head again.

"I see," Knock Out said evenly. He ex-vented sharply. "No, I don’t. Do you have a blasted _processor glitch!?_ Ship-grade energon?! How many more ways are you going to nearly offline my sparkling?"

Flash curled up against Megatron. He was muttering something to himself, but Megatron couldn’t make it out.

"He’s been flushed," Megatron said. "I was taking him to the medical bay for a checkup before you accosted us."

"Sorry, Knock Out," Flash mumbled, just loud enough to be audible. "I didn’t know it was bad."

"I’m not mad," Knock Out lied, doing his best to sound neutral. "Just surprised. Come here."

Reluctantly, Flash left the safety of Megatron’s arms and let Knock Out examine his optics.

"Well, stage one is being unable to focus," Knock Out said, waving his digit in front of Flash’s face. Some of his tension leaving him when Flash was able to correctly follow his movements. "So you’re not _currently_ poisoned. I’m still going to give you a check-up and you’re not allowed to do that again, understand?"

"Yes, Knock Out," Flash said dutifully.

"Good." Knock Out grabbed his servo and led him towards the medbay. Megatron followed. "You’re going to give me a spark attack at this rate."

"From my understanding, that’s common for new creators," Megatron said.

"Wonderful," Knock Out said, deadpan. He ex-vented again and managed to lighten his expression. "Did you have a good time on Earth at least?"

"Humans are so small!" Flash chirped. "And Earth is so wet! And Laserbeak is really fun! And —"

Megatron let Flash’s chatter wash over him. It hadn’t been as bad confronting Knock Out as he’d feared it would be, obviously being a creator had softened his spark.

* * *

In many ways, it felt like someone had done their best to transplant Megatron’s quarters from the _Nemesis_. Even the arch of the ceiling was the same.

No one had asked Megatron’s preferences — he’d always intended to be part of the team arranging the furniture in his rooms when the time came — and possibly the Vehicons didn’t want to risk upsetting him by using their own designs when they knew Megatron at least tolerated his previous quarters.

It would do. At least it wouldn’t be too unfamiliar for Flash.

There was another, smaller room off the main living area, but Megatron wasn’t ready to leave Flash alone at night. Maybe once he stopped waking up to be fed.

There were still a few items that needed to be moved from the _Nemesis_. Ones that had been thoroughly hidden from the likes of Starscream and had yet to be uncovered by Autobots or otherwise.

Megatron walked past the open door to the mess hall on the way to his old quarters on the _Nemesis_. Stopped. Then backtracked and looked inside.

Yes, that did appear to be Knock Out, Smokescreen, Wheeljack, and Bumblebee watching some sort of low-resolution film footage on the projector the officers pretended not to know the Vehicons used for entertainment off-shift. The film itself was what had caught Megatron’s attention; it looked like a handful of humans in protective gear stripping down a car similar to the one Bumblebee had modelled his vehicle mode after.

One of the humans on-screen brought down an angle grinder, prompting a wince from Smokescreen and a murmur of appreciation from Knock Out. Gruesome.

And Optimus wondered why Megatron hated organics — they held no respect for machinery, living or not.

Another on-screen human started spraying bright orange paint through a stencil laid out on a purple piece of metal.

"What are you watching?" Megatron asked.

The scramble from the racers was comedic. Bumblebee slammed the remote and shut off the picture, while Smokescreen fell off the bench and Wheeljack laughed at him.

"Lord Megatron!" Knock Out said, slipping into his easy smile and glancing around for an escape route.

"D'you call him that _all_ the time, Scarlet?" Wheeljack said, still laughing.

"Don't tell me!" Smokescreen slapping his servos over his audials.

Megatron took in the tableau and decided that he didn't want to know.

"I take it that only sufficiently advanced optics have been viewing something so graphic?" Megatron said.

"I _tried_ to get Smokescreen to stop," Wheeljack said with a grin.

"Hey!"

"Flash is more interested in datapads," Knock Out said. "Perhaps you'd like to join us for something more… explicit?"

Wheeljack pulled a face. If even a Wrecker thought what Knock Out was suggesting was brutal…

"I was under the impression that the furniture was all going to be moved today," Megatron said, changing the subject and looking around the haphazard piles of table legs and metal slabs.

"We’re taking a break," Bumblebee said defensively.

"One long enough for Ultra Magnus to ask if I would assist you, given that you can’t move a handful of tables and benches in a timely manner," Megatron lied.

Smokescreen’s doors drooped. "Is he mad?"

Megatron stared him down. Smokescreen grumbled and went to pick up an armful of table legs.

"Can I have a word?" Bumblebee said determinedly.

Megatron gave a short nod and Bumblebee took him to a corner of the room, out of audial-range of the others. Megatron's lingering paranoia had his threat-detection systems on high-alert.

"You need to stop being threatening to our allies," Bumblebee said.

"Threatening?" Megatron tried not to laugh. "That wasn't a threat."

"I didn't mean to Smokescreen, though that wasn't great either — you know he doesn't like it when people are disappointed in him," Bumblebee said. "I meant with the humans. And, actually, yes, with Smokescreen too. You threatened to rip his spark out during the Earth trip."

Megatron gave in to the urge and laughed disbelievingly. "I wasn't _serious_."

"With Smokescreen? Yeah, I got that impression," Bumblebee said. "However, you've been our enemy for a lot longer than you've been our ally, so it might not be the wisest idea to joke about that sort of thing yet."

"What about the humans?" Megatron didn't want to be scolded like a sparkling over nothing. "I made no such threat to them."

"Maybe not directly," Bumblebee said. "But you scared them anyway and you didn't have to."

"Fear is a natural response in my presence," Megatron said. "It would be stupid of them to _not_ be afraid, given how small and fragile they are."

"They were used to Optimus being around; they aren't afraid of being accidentally stepped on by a big mech. The difference being that Optimus was careful and _you_ acted threateningly." Bumblebee rubbed the back of his helm. "I'm not making this an official thing, it's just advice. Okay?"

_Advice_ from an _Autobot_. It still felt unreal.

"I will attempt better diplomacy in future," Megatron said. "Even to those who have done me nothing but harm."

"I guess that'll do," Bumblebee said. He didn't look happy, but then few Autobots did when dealing with Megatron directly. "Alright, let's get these tables moved."

* * *

"Soundwave. I trust you’re settling in well to the ceasefire?"

It was a rare moment for both Soundwave and Megatron to be alone together. For some reason, the Autobots were funny about trusting the two of them at this time.

Soundwave inclined his helm. He was hooked up to the remains of the _Nemesis’s_ mainframe, managing the last of the data transfers to their new security setup in the shanty town they were living in. Laserbeak was nowhere to be seen.

"No trouble with the Autobots then?" Megatron asked.

Soundwave shook his head. His visor cut to Laserbeak's view, stealthily following Knock Out, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen as they returned from one of their racing expeditions out on Cybertron's plains.

"— high grade for me," Smokescreen said, stretching. "Can't beat that buzzing feeling. Knock Out?"

"Interfacing," Knock Out sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a good spike."

"Aren't you, y'know —" Bumblebee made a strange, probably-human gesture, "— burning tyres with Megatron? Wait, does that work if he doesn't have wheels?"

"Flight frames call it _kicking thrusters_," Knock Out said helpfully. "And no, not currently."

"Then all that time together in the evenings —"

"Is spent spoiling his son."

And being able to relax without Autobots around. Megatron hadn't realised the conclusions the Autobots would draw, but it made sense when you had as limited a picture of Megatron's relationship with Knock Out as the Autobots apparently did.

"Do you have a point to make, Soundwave?" he asked.

"—_not currently_ — _kicking thrusters_ — _Knock Out_ —" Soundwave asked, splicing the question together from voices in the footage.

"He has yet to approach me," Megatron said. "I doubt my attentions would be reciprocated, given the way our last dalliance ended."

No matter how much Megatron wanted Knock Out's company. How much he wanted that pretty little mech riding his spike and _smirking_.

No matter how much he wanted to fall into recharge with that warm frame next to his own.

Megatron _wanted_.

Soundwave pulled up a picture of Flash on his mask.

"He might be a by-product of our affair, but had no part in ending things," Megatron said. "I expect you already know when and why."

Soundwave nodded. He was planning something, Megatron could tell.

"Enough of your speculations," Megatron said. "How are the repairs to the communications array going?"

Soundwave brought up the progress report. It looked good.

He stepped forward, wanting to say something else.

"_I don't suppose you could do some… off the books scanning?_" Knock Out asked from a flipped image on Soundwave’s visor. He must have been recorded by Soundwave recently.

Soundwave must have made some reply because some of the tension left Knock Out's faceplates.

"_Good. I want to know where Starscream is. Not to join him, of course_," Knock Out hurriedly reassured. "_I'm just a little concerned. We were friends. Sort of. Look, I just want to know if he's online, alright?_"

Soundwave's visor cut back to black, leaving Megatron staring at his own bemused reflection.

Starscream, Starscream, Starscream.

What to do about Starscream?

He'd been Megatron's second in command for so long. It had been strange, planning for the future without Starscream near and ready to attempt assassination.

But perhaps that was for the best. Megatron didn't know how to deal with Starscream personally without resorting to violence to keep him in line. And any endeavour to rely on diplomacy would only leave him open to Starscream's deviousness.

Of course, that was only a concern if Starscream yet lived.

"I, too, would like to know if Starscream still functions," Megatron decided. "If only to avoid a missile in my back later, or an ill-advised coup. No need to inform the Autobots, but also don't hide it if they ask."

The usual implication of _don't get caught_ was clear.

Soundwave nodded.

It was such a relief to not have to constantly explain his actions. To have not only loyalty, but trust.

* * *

"Knock knock."

Megatron looked up from the report of scout movements Soundwave had produced — something strange was happening with the remaining Insecticons stationed on Cybertron, but he couldn’t figure out _what_ — to see Knock Out leaning in the doorway. There was no sign of Flash.

"Soundwave pointed out that I might want to be a little more… _obvious_," Knock Out said.

His tone and pose were both very reminiscent of the times he'd propositioned Megatron in the past. Megatron felt his interface array warm and demand charge from his other systems. It had been far too long since his last overload.

A lifetime ago, technically speaking.

"Where's Flash?" Megatron asked, putting the datapad down.

"With Soundwave, they’re going to take Laserbeak for a flight." Knock Out waved a dismissive servo and sauntered closer. "That's not why I'm here."

He affected confidence well. Megatron might break it if he pretended indifference, but he found he didn't want to.

"Are you sure?" Megatron needed to know for certain that he wasn't reading too much into this.

Knock Out stopped just in front of Megatron.

"I’m sure that it'd be a shame to leave that berth empty," Knock Out said, claw tips brushing over Megatron's abdomen. "Take me there."

It was easy to indulge him. To let this fragile dream exist without questioning hard enough to shatter it.

Not nearly soon enough, Megatron was seated on the edge of the berth, Knock Out at home in his lap. Megatron licked across Knock Out’s headlights, the cold static unique against his glossa.

"Mmm," Knock Out placed a servo on Megatron’s spike panel and licked his lips, "Let’s see what upgrades Unicron gave you here."

— _one of many upgrades that I've made to your limited corporeal form_ —

Megatron shoved Knock Out off his lap. He felt vile. Several warnings pinged his systems of an oncoming purge. He forced them back.

"Now, really," Knock Out said, annoyed. Then he caught sight of Megatron’s face. "Megatron?"

"I’m not in the mood anymore." Megatron got up, intending on going out to fly until he couldn’t think.

"Wait." Knock Out got to his pedes too. He was so _small_.

So _destructible_.

Megatron was going to purge if he stayed here. His intake shivered as he slapped at the panel to unlock the door.

"Stop," Knock Out said, using the same tone as he did during interface.

And _slag it all_, Megatron actually paused in the doorway. He’d clearly allowed Knock Out too much power during their previous encounters.

"If you don’t want to be touched, fine," Knock Out said, "but I want an overload."

Megatron wondered how far Knock Out would push if he said _no_.

Yet, he wanted this. Wanted Knock Out. Wanted Knock Out to want him. And Knock Out was more than willing, despite the differences in Megatron’s frame.

Megatron _wanted_.

He shut the door.

"How do you want it?"

"Give me your servo," Knock Out said, holding up his own servos in invitation.

Megatron offered his servi. Knock Out took it and slid one of Megatron's digits into his mouth, glossa probing experimentally.

"Hmm." He pulled the digit out and looked over it critically. "They might work, as long as you keep them extended."

Megatron flexed his digits, noticing how the sharp edges protruded more when he bent them — the tips of his claws had been smoothed down to avoid accidentally injuring Flash, but he hadn't bothered with the knuckles. Something to look into later. He still had yet to get used to having another joint.

"Think you can overload me with digits alone?" Knock Out purred.

"And here I thought you'd give me a challenge," Megatron said.

Admittedly, exclusively pleasurable fingering wasn’t something Megatron was very practised in. If a mech wanted his claws in their valve they usually wanted pain too. Being careful was going to be new.

A good start for Megatron’s fresh lease on life.

"On the berth," Megatron said.

Knock Out perched on the edge and obligingly spread his legs when Megatron knelt in front of him. Pretty, dark grey thighs were smooth under Megatron’s servos as he stroked up.

There was a soft _click_ and Knock Out’s panel slid aside, exposing a lovely dark grey valve with enticing red biolights running into it. It would feel wonderfully soft and welcoming against Megatron’s glossa and he wished he hadn’t agreed to digits-only this time.

Megatron ran the blunt underside of his thumb up over soft mesh. It came away wet with lubricant. He could feel the damp on the pad of his thumb far more hotly than he used to with only claws.

Perhaps there was some good to be had from this rebuild after all.

Still, Knock Out’s valve demanded attention. It was lubricated, but he hadn’t run any widening subroutines yet. Megatron slid a digit in and almost groaned at the soft, slick warmth.

"_Oh_," Knock Out _did_ groan and let his helm tip back. "Nothing beats living metal."

Megatron slowly stroked around, finding contact points amidst soft mesh and making a mental map. It was novel, playing with no intent on finding his own finish, and he found himself enjoying the twitches and noises Knock Out made whenever he lit up a new contact more than he had expected.

Megatron withdrew his digit and stuck two in his mouth, slicking them with oral lubricant. Then he slid them both back in Knock Out’s hungry valve. The extra lubricant made it easier to find the contact nodes lining the mesh walls. Megatron’s digits tingled as they arced charge from one point to another, making Knock Out shiver and groan again and again.

Charge pulsed through Megatron’s interface array. He ruthlessly quashed it. If he could prove to himself that he had the self-control to give Knock Out an overload without giving in to his own pleasure, then maybe he could join in the next time Knock Out asked, certain that there would be no lasting damage dealt.

Megatron pressed the tips of all five digits into Knock Out’s valve, then stretched them out, manually widening the first calliper until he couldn’t any further.

"Oh," Knock Out moaned.

Megatron slid his digits in further until he felt the next calliper and repeated the process. This time he used his other servo to rub Knock Out’s node.

"_Oh!_"

Calliper by calliper, Megatron worked his way deeper into Knock Out's valve. His digits ran out of length before he reached the end.

And despite his best efforts, Knock Out hadn't overloaded yet.

At a slight loss for ideas — ideas that only involved his digits anyway — Megatron started to pull his servo back out, only for Knock Out to clamp his thighs around his wrist.

"Don't. I'm close. Just a bit more," Knock Out panted. Damn near _pleaded_.

He cycled his callipers back down, squeezing Megatron's digits so hard he swore something dented. There was a challenging gleam in his optics.

Megatron never liked to back down from a challenge. He rotated his servo, then pressed out with his digits, manually pushing all the callipers wide at once.

"You think you're strong enough?" Knock Out's helm was thrown back. His valve squeezed tighter, but Megatron's progress would not be halted.

"I am the undefeated champion of the Pits of Kaon," Megatron said, rubbing Knock Out’s node again. "A pretty little civilian stands no chance against me —" he bent forward to whisper in Knock Out’s audial, "— not unless I want them to."

He let his digits relax the slightest amount and Knock Out overloaded with a cry, valve doing its best to crush Megatron’s servo.

_Primus_, but he looked fantastic in his ecstasy.

"Beautiful," Megatron said softly.

"I know," Knock Out panted.

As he came down from his high, he started looking fragile again. Like the time he'd gotten insecure about Starscream — as strange as that had been — rather than seeming destructible under Megatron's servos.

It was still a surprise that Knock Out had accused Megatron of fragging Starscream, like he was worried that Megatron might choose another mech over him when they'd shared such intimacies.

Starscream wasn't a mech Megatron was interested in putting his interface array anywhere near. Not to mention that while Megatron liked most things in his partners and in interface, he did admit to having a preference for wheels and windscreens. Wings were often not worth the hassle, as they made many positions difficult and some outright impossible.

"I believe a discussion is in order," Megatron said.

Knock Out pulled a face. Megatron took his servo back and sat on the berth next to Knock Out.

"Can't we just call this convenient and move on?" Knock Out said, without much hope.

Megatron felt a pit form in his tanks. Of course, there was no reason Knock Out would want more. He was putting up with Megatron because of Decepticon solidarity — not difficult when his only other options were the Vehicons or Soundwave — and because of the sparkling they’d accidentally created.

"That led to a situation I would not like to repeat."

Knock Out squirmed. "It’s not like I’m going to do any more experimenting with dark energon. For a start, the Autobots would never allow it."

"This may be a relationship based on convenience, however, ground rules are still required," Megatron said. "You previously wanted exclusivity."

"I don’t share." Knock Out nodded.

"You will not sabotage my goals. You will not make any references to Unicron in berth. I require trust in my relationships." Megatron ticked them off on his digits as he spoke, trying to ignore the fact that they were still coated in pale orange lubricant. "And Flash comes first. I will not allow his comfort and development to be put on hold because we are busy with unimportant things."

"I consider overloads important," Knock Out said. "But not more important than Flash's wellbeing," he added at Megatron’s frown.

That should be enough. He wasn't Ultra Magnus and could rest easy without every single possible interaction having been regulated.

"I take it Prime is out of bounds too?" Knock Out asked.

Megatron hadn't even considered that. "Do not mention Optimus in my berth."

Knock Out muttered something about roleplay that Megatron pretended not to hear.

"As long as you don't bring up Breakdown or what that human did to his parts either," Knock Out said.

Hardly something Megatron wanted to think about during interface. He nodded.

"You'll help me with the buffer too," Knock Out said, nearly a question.

Megatron nodded again. As demands went it wasn't a difficult one, despite Knock Out's perfectionist streak when it came to his finish.

"What about bondage?" Knock Out asked.

Megatron's immediate denial died on his glossa when he caught the badly disguised hope in Knock Out's optics.

"Not yet," he said instead. "I still haven’t gotten comfortable enough in this frame."

Knock Out nodded. "I can wait. Any other requests?"

"That is all for now, we can update things as they become necessary."

"Grand." Knock Out got to his pedes and fetched his buffer. "If you’re going to be seen with me a bit more _shine_ is in order," Knock Out said, spinning the buffer almost threateningly.

Megatron had spent as little time as he could paying attention to his upgraded frame. Apparently, a quick visit to the washracks every few days to deal with the dust and debris that came from the construction site wasn’t going to be good enough. How frustrating.

However, he could remember a fearful medic asking an unhinged warlord if maybe, just maybe, he could add a little more polish to his appearance. This was important to Knock Out and Megatron much preferred this comfortable version of his _convenient_ lover.

He bit back a sigh and held out his pitted and scored arm.

"Do what you must."

* * *

Soundwave dropped Flash off while Knock Out was dealing with a particularly stubborn nook of Megatron’s shoulder spikes.

Flash immediately tried to run off the second he saw the buffer in Knock Out’s servos.

"You polished me this morning!" Flash shouted, trying to escape Soundwave’s grasp. "I’m not dirty! I don’t need a bath!"

"Oh be quiet, I’m just helping your other creator," Knock Out said. "Thank you, Soundwave."

"I trust he behaved himself," Megatron added.

Soundwave nodded once and brought a squirming Flash over until Megatron could grab him.

"No running off," Megatron said, securing Flash firmly on his leg. "Now, what have you been up to?"

It was nice, being taken care of. That soft domesticity crept into the edges of Megatron’s optics. A mate and a sparkling.

A home.

As he took the buffer from Knock Out and started reciprocating the detailing work, Megatron wondered if Optimus would be happy for him.

* * *

The energon mines were less muddy than the ones on Earth, but the rock-dust on Cybteron held a lot more rust after so long with the planet's core dead. Megatron's filters had been made to endure normal, surface dust and energon splatters, but whether due to Unicron's influence or the particular strain of rust in the mines, he found he always had to give them a good shake off as soon as he was topside again.

He wasn't the only one, groups of Vehicons could nearly always be found at the mine entrance, helping one another dust-off at the changing of shifts.

Knock Out refused to go into the mines unless there was need for a medic. Luckily for him, being the only medic planet-side meant he could pick his own schedule.

Today's rust build-up had been oddly light — perhaps the cybermatter at Cybertron's core was still working its way out — and Megatron only needed to run his fans on full-blast for a minute to clear his filters to his system's content.

He transformed. It was still novel, flying over Cybertron. He hadn't gotten a flight-capable vehicle mode until late in the war when they'd long since abandoned their home planet.

Even without his superluminal drive, Megatron was the fastest flyer planetside. He swooped back into the town, dropping onto his pedes in the designated landing zone — an idea of Ultra Magnus's that Soundwave had backed up — and rolled his shoulders to get rid of the lingering stiffness a day in the mines had given rise to.

Some of the Autobots had Flash today. Normally, Megatron would head to his rooms for a final clean first or grab some energon to refuel before picking up Flash, but his creator protocols were still funny about certain Autobots looking after his sparkling — especially these Autobots.

A sound reached Megatron's audials as he neared the mess hall — the most likely place Flash would be, as he often refuelled at this time — a terrified, awful, _painful_ noise.

Flash was crying.

Megatron's vision tunnelled and his pace increased without conscious input. He slammed open the doors to the mess hall and several of his non-essential systems were killed off by his creator protocols.

Arcee and Wheeljack were knelt in front of a crying Flash, but it was Flash’s wings in Bulkhead’s servos that caught Megatron’s attention.

Wings in Bulkhead’s servos and _not_ attached to Flash.

Bulkhead caught Megatron's furious glare and winced, then tried to hide the wings behind his back.

"It's not what you think!" Bulkhead started desperately.

Megatron saw red. His sparkling was _injured_ and _sobbing_ and _the Autobots had done this_. Every line of combat coding he had lit up like a solar flare in a roar of _protect, protect, protectprotectprotect_—

Ex-leader of the Decepticons versus three Autobots. There was no contest.

Awareness crept back, bringing with it a niggling reminder that Megatron had sworn to avoid violence as a first resort. Flash was curled in his left arm, whimpering against his chest plate. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were offline on the floor and Arcee had been slammed into the wall. Megatron’s servo still pinning her arms to her sides.

She was trying to say something. The roaring in Megatron’s audials finally let up enough for him to hear.

"Give me one good reason. Fast," Megatron snarled, squeezing until he felt something buckle.

"Moulting," Arcee choked out. "He's moulting."

Megatron’s grip loosened.

"His wings fell off and he got scared." Arcee continued through rough vents. "He's not actually hurt."

Megatron looked at the tear on Flash’s back where his wings had been. Soft, new protometal gleamed silver-gold under the jagged edges, tender to the touch most likely, but not a real injury.

Megatron dropped Arcee. She landed on her knees and clutched at the dents Megatron had left in her chassis.

"Flash, are you hurt?" Megatron had to be sure.

"Stings," Flash mumbled through sobs that were too weak to belong to anyone who had had fully-connected limbs ripped off.

Well, _scrap_. There went all the progress Megatron had made towards peace.

"Knock Out." Megatron activated his comm. "Prepare the medical bay for four patients."

"_Did something happen?_" Knock Out asked. "_Is the ceasefire still in effect?_" he hissed like he didn't want to be overheard. "_Because Ultra Magnus is here and I'd rather not have to fight him if I can help it._"

"Flash is moulting."

"_That doesn’t really answer anything_," Knock Out said. "_What about the other three patients?_"

Arcee had her pistols trained on Megatron — not that her blasts would do more than scuff his finish — and an ugly scowl on her faceplates.

"You’re not going to walk away from this," she snapped.

"Waste your energy if you want," Megatron said, "or allow me to _assist_ you in getting your mates to the medbay."

He could _hear_ Arcee grinding her denta. Her gaze shifted to the right and she grimaced.

"Fine." She transformed her blasters away. "If you damage them further or they don’t make it? Your head is _mine_."

"You’re welcome to try."

Arcee turned her back and went to check on the Wreckers. Megatron gave Flash a reassuring pat and followed.

Whilst splattered with energon, they were both still venting — though Bulkhead’s ex-vents had an unhealthy rattle to them. Deep rents had been slashed through armour; the force Megatron must have put behind the blows to do that damage with blunted claws was astounding. It was concerning that he hadn't realised he was doing that much damage.

Something to look into at a later date.

Megatron grabbed Wheeljack’s arm, only to find it had been detached from the rest of his frame — a messy tear with sparking wires.

Flash was persuaded to sit on Megatron’s shoulder to leave both of his servos free. Arcee took Wheeljack’s arm, while Megatron dragged the Wreckers along, one leg in each servo.

Ultra Magnus was waiting at the medbay doors, looking as stern as ever. Megatron refused to cower. He had done nothing that warranted the truce being called off.

At least it wasn’t Optimus. Megatron could weather Ultra Magnus’s disapproval, but Optimus’s disappointment always cut to the spark.

"Oh, you _have_ done a number on them," Knock Out said when the medbay doors opened, as professional as ever. "Inside, inside."

Between Megatron and Ultra Magnus, they managed to get the Wreckers situated on medical slabs. Knock Out set up an oil bath for Flash with Arcee’s assistance, then got to work. With every finished weld and normalised spark rhythm, Arcee relaxed by millimetres.

Ultra Magnus came to stand beside Megatron as he tried and failed to keep Flash from gulping a mouthful of oil that was too unrefined for safe consumption. Tanks of adamantine, this one.

"I hope you understand that this looks bad," Ultra Magnus said sternly. "I will need a full report of the situation from you and Flash."

_Urgh_, paperwork. Megatron missed the time he had been accountable to no one.

Peace was _difficult_.

"Understood," Megatron said.

"I get to do a report?!" Flash asked excitedly, squinting up through the film of oil he’d gotten on his optics.

Ultra Magnus’s frown melted. "Of course."

Having Flash around was nearly as useful as Smokescreen’s continued idiocy. Autobots were so ridiculously soft-sparked for sparklings.

Megatron helped Flash smooth off the jagged remains of his wings, while Ultra Magnus went to have a loud, frustrated discussion with Arcee.

Ultra Magnus defending Megatron, what had the world come to?

Arcee didn't look happy as she approached, but she didn't transform out her guns either. Megatron shifted so he was between her and Flash.

"They'll live," Arcee said curtly.

"I assumed you would have gone for Flash if they hadn't."

"I wouldn't hurt a sparkling over something their creator did. I'm not a Decepticon," Arcee said. "Anyway, Magnus is insisting that we do this by the book."

Which meant comparing Megatron's behaviour to their terms of peace and seeing if he had contravened the laws too drastically. Megatron was confident that they wouldn't seek to banish him over one incident, but every strike against him would add up over time.

There was something familiar about the way Arcee was holding herself. It was like the human Jack had when he was demanding an apology. Megatron might not have regretted Earth, but he _should_ have done better here.

"I apologise," Megatron said stiffly, "for not taking full account of the situation before acting."

Arcee kept up her glare for another five seconds, before finally relenting.

"You know what? This one isn't going on my list," she said. "Giving in to overprotective creator coding is the most understandable thing you’ve ever done."

Megatron wanted to snarl that the demolition of an unjust caste system was more than understandable, but held his glossa. His combat protocols were still running hot and he didn't actually want this ceasefire and tentative peace to end.

Arcee held his gaze, looking like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then she smirked.

"He's drinking the oil again."

Megatron cursed and pulled Flash up by the scruff to get his mouth out of the oil. By the time he'd done that, Arcee had slipped away.

"I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with your taste receptors," Megatron told an unrepentant Flash.

"It feels nicer when I’m totally under," Flash said.

"Stop drinking the oil and I’ll consider it," Megatron said. "How is your plating?"

Flash shrugged and poked at his arm. "Feels kinda like when Laserbeak grabs on."

"Don’t pick at it, it will come off in its own time."

It had been a very long time since Megatron had witnessed a moult — he had been built from the Well in a fully upgraded frame from the start of his functioning, so had never been through one himself. Old memory files — half corrupted from time and who knew what else — gave him a rough picture of half-grown sparklings’ complaints of being maddeningly itchy and impatient to finally grow.

One sparkling back in Kaon had ripped off half his own plating during one particularly bad moult. Thankfully he hadn’t reached his penultimate stage yet, because doing so had scarred his protometal and thus the armour that had hardened from it had been weaker than it should've been.

Higher castes had remedies for keeping itching at bay, such as oil baths. However, given the faces Flash was pulling and the way he kept reaching up to tug at his loose plating when he thought Megatron wasn’t watching, they were going to have to file down his claws, despite the bath.

With any luck, Unicron's twisted additions would moult off, leaving a clean, healthy sparkling.

* * *

Megatron flew over Cybertron, relishing the feel of the thin wind rushing over his wings and the silence that came from this altitude. A moment’s peace after a long day at the mines.

He nearly missed the _ping_ of an incoming communication and had to drop a few hundred metres to spot the origin point.

A knot of Vehicons were clustered together in the middle of the rough, brown metal plain.

"_Megatron! Come have a look at this!_" One of them sent.

It was the familiarity that made Megatron curious. He dropped out of vehicle mode nearby and approached. Four Vehicons — two flyers and two grounders — watched him with various levels of trepidation, the fifth — another flyer — was crouched down, poking at something bright and glowing just peeping out of the crust. It almost looked like —

"We found a spark, sir," one of the grounders said.

Megatron brought their designations to his processor. They were still part of Soundwave’s personnel database, so their identifiers came up immediately. Though they often used nicknames that Megatron had never bothered to learn.

"What do we do, sir?" CT3-R35P-0ND asked.

"Is it meant to be glowing like that?" HP4-P04N-1XX asked.

"It feels tingly," FY7-T28B-1N3 said, digits outstretched as though to pluck the spark from the ground.

"Don’t touch it, Turbine!" CT2-534R-CH0 snapped.

"Do you intend to harvest it?" Megatron said. He knelt to look closer. It appeared to be healthy, a good solid blue and pulsing rhythmically. He’d only seen a few Well-birthed sparks firsthand before the war, on the occasions he’d spent time outside of Kaon and other major cities.

The Vehicons exchanged glances.

"_Can_ we, sir?" CT3-R35P-0ND asked tentatively.

"You will need parts," Megatron said, "the ground here is too barren for a frame to completely form, even for a sparkling."

"But we _can_ harvest it?" FY7-T28B-1N3 pushed.

Megatron got to his pedes and shrugged. "If you want to. It will be reabsorbed back into the Allspark if you leave it alone, to reemerge at a later time when resources are more plentiful."

"How?" SS5-S55S-SS5 finally spoke.

"Knock Out should be more than capable of a spark transfer," Megatron said. He took in the way the Vehicons all looked at each other again and the twitch in CT3-R35P-0ND’s servos. "I will contact him."

"Thank you, sir," HP4-P04N-1XX said.

Megatron didn’t entirely understand the strange relationship Knock Out had with the Vehicons. Some of them liked him, some of them didn't, and some of them blamed him for the deactivation of half their troops and either hated him for it or feared that he would experiment on them next.

It would be easier if they were all of one opinion like they all feared Megatron — though given the range of emotions he was currently facing, perhaps that was less clean-cut than he thought.

It didn't take long for a Ground Bridge to swirl to life and deposit Knock Out and an empty husk on the plain. Knock Out snapped his digits and got two of the Vehicons to drag the frame next to the spark.

"Looks healthy," Knock Out said, scanning the spark. "There shouldn't be any issues with compatibility. However, there's always a chance the spark will reject the frame and return to the Allspark."

"How big a chance?" CT2-534R-CH0 asked. "Should we ask Ratchet to come back?"

"It’s hardly my first street race. I’ve done illegal spark births before," Knock Out said snottily. He pulled a syringe from his toolbox. "Do any of you want to donate some energon?"

"Why?" SS5-S55S-SS5 asked.

Knock Out paused. "It’s tradition." When none of the Vehicons reacted to that he scoffed. "Right, yes, war-born, of course. There’s a tradition for the prospective creators to give the newspark some of their active energon to make a stronger bond, since it wasn’t lit from your own sparks."

"Of course." FY7-T28B-1N3 couldn’t stick his arm out fast enough.

It was a fascinating thing, watching Knock Out work. All neat, precise motions and professionalism — and a clear undercurrent of enjoyment. Megatron had never been allowed near an actual spark transfer before and was surprised at how easy it appeared.

But then, Knock Out was good at looking like he was forged for difficult tasks.

The frame integrated the spark then Knock Out plugged in and ran through a series of tests, pausing occasionally to fix a jammed gear or torn tubing. The newspark garbled nonsense through its vocaliser, shrieking whenever Knock Out poked its internal mechanisms.

The Vehicons twitched with every noise.

"There you have it," Knock Out said, disconnecting and standing up. "One perfect spark birth. I'm even better than Ratchet."

"That's it?" CT2-534R-CH0 asked. "He's ready?"

"Why's he making those noises?" CT3-R35P-0ND asked.

"Hungry, I imagine," Knock Out shrugged. "Start with low-grade — there's no telling how an old, empty tank like that is going to react to fresh energon."

"But… what do we _do?_" HP4-P04N-1XX said desperately, as though he hadn't considered that they'd be dealing with a newspark once the spark had been framed.

"It's not hard," Knock Out said, unsympathetic. "Now, I've got better things to do than coach new creators through basic sparkling care."

He shut up his toolbox and transformed and drove away before any of the Vehicons could bother him further.

"Megatron, sir?" SS5-S55S-SS5 said quietly. "Help?"

Megatron had been about to take off after Knock Out but took in the scene with a fresh optic.

FY7-T28B-1N3 tried to help the newspark to its pedes, but it collapsed the moment he let go and started wailing. FY7-T28B-1N3 looked close to wailing himself. The other Vehicons looked at each other, uncertain.

"Movement routines usually take a few days to initialise," Megatron said. "You'll have to carry them for now."

FY7-T28B-1N3 slung the newspark's arm over his shoulders instead, prompting a series of shrieks and beeps when he tried to take a step forward with the newspark.

"It's not working!" he said.

"Comfort and confidence," Megatron said. He rearranged FY7-T28B-1N3's hold into a similar one to how Megatron often held Flash — though it was odd with the newspark being bigger and lighter than Flash was. "You are their caregivers, would you trust one of your allies to hold you if they didn't believe they could?"

FY7-T28B-1N3 struggled with the weight but managed to keep the newspark comfortable. It calmed down and rested its helm against FY7-T28B-1N3's chest — likely listening to his spark-pulse and taking comfort in it.

Megatron had a small cube of low-grade tucked away — he'd gotten used to carrying one in case of emergency with Flash — and offered it. CT3-R35P-0ND took it and, with trepidation, attempted to feed the newspark.

"Slowly," Megatron said. "They have to learn everything. A pre-fabricated brain module should help the process, but the world is new to them."

As if in agreement, the newspark tried to vocalise another string of beeps as energon was being poured down its intake and it spluttered.

Megatron quietly ex-vented and said a silent goodbye to the remainder of his afternoon as the Vehicons erupted in panic again.

* * *

"I've been asked to check in on the latest newsparks," Megatron said. "Flash stay with Knock Out."

They were up to three fresh newsparks in old Vehicon bodies now. It was heartening to see new life thriving — and it would give everyone a chance to get used to dealing with multiple newsparks before the planet was revitalised enough to ignite full fields of sparks ready to grow.

It still warmly lit Megatron's stained spark that it was _Decepticons_ making the first strides at repopulation.

"I'm not good company right now," Knock Out said through gritted denta. "Flash, go see Bumblebee. He can look after you this evening."

"Okay," Flash said, somewhat subdued. He looked at Megatron, confusion clear on his face.

"Knock Out?" Megatron tried.

"Not _now_."

Megatron opened his mouth to demand an answer, then caught sight of the little silvery splash of armour that was Flash out the corner of his optic. He turned away from Knock Out.

"I'll drop you off with Bumblebee on my way to check on the newsparks," Megatron said, offering Flash a hand.

Flash brightened. "Can I see the newsparks too? They're funny."

"They're _young_," Megatron said, leading him out the door. "You were just as ridiculous at their age."

"Was not!"

In truth, Megatron couldn't dispute that argument. It still hurt in a strange hot way deep in his tanks whenever he remembered that he'd missed Flash's first few crucial days.

The first time his movement routines had initialised. The first words he'd managed to get past his growing vocaliser. The first times he'd been held by someone who cared about him.

"You were even more ridiculous than 02-SUN," Megatron said.

Flash lost control of his vocaliser for a moment and beeped angrily. Megatron laughed and picked him up by the ankle. Flash shrieked with laughter as he dangled upside down.

This would have to be enough. Megatron deserved less.

* * *

The newsparks were integrating into the Vehicons' community with little difficulty. Always a social lot, the Vehicons had easily made space and those that wanted nothing to do with raising sparklings had found other habitation.

They were thriving and the Vehicons had also gotten brighter now that their numbers were finally swelling again after so long.

At this point, Megatron being sought out for advice on newsparks felt more like a safety net than a necessity.

Flash had taken to being the eldest sparkling quite well and, despite being shorter than the Vehicon newsparks, had quickly established himself as a source of wisdom and fun — as far as the newsparks were concerned.

After letting the sparklings play for half an hour — Flash having orchestrated a strange game of tag that Megatron had difficulty following, but the newsparks played along with easily — and a strangely friendly conversation with CT3-R35P-0ND and FY7-T28B-1N3 about recharge schedules, Megatron's job was done. He could have taken Flash back to his habsuite and spent the last hour telling stories until it was time for the sparkling to recharge, but there was something else he needed to do.

Bumblebee was looking tired when he opened his door and Megatron asked him to keep an optic on Flash for an hour.

"Why can't you look after him?" Bumblebee asked. "I'll do it, but I thought evenings were your time together?"

"I need to have a discussion with Knock Out that I don't want him overhearing," Megatron said.

Bumblebee grimaced. "Can't you do that at night?"

"And risk waking Flash? No, we —" Megatron took in the pained look on Bumblebee's faceplates and reassessed. "What do you think I'm talking about?"

"You know." Bumblebee glanced at Flash and hissed, "_kicking thrusters_. That's what flight frames call it, right?"

Save him from interface-obsessed racers.

Megatron ex-vented. "I'm not talking about interface. We need to have a discussion that may turn into an argument and I don't want Flash around for it."

"Oh." Bumblebee looked relieved. "Sure."

Megatron left them to it and returned to Knock Out's rooms.

Knock Out was still sorting his cleaning supplies with the sort of focused determination that spoke more of making a point to Megatron than of actual organisation.

It struck Megatron sharply of the time he'd walked in on Knock Out grieving in the medbay. Another jarring change to the norm.

"What's happened?" Megatron asked.

"Nothing." Knock Out's reply was clipped.

"Then why send Flash away?"

Knock Out shrugged. Megatron had to throttle his engine to stop it from growling in warning.

"He's your sparkling," Megatron said. "You can't just foist him off when it's mildly inconvenient."

"Oh, can't I?" Knock Out said, voice blasé. "He's an accident and I'm very busy. I'm allowed to have time to myself, away from sparklings and you and _Autobots_."

"Have the Autobots done something?"

"I don't care." Knock Out's digits flexed. "Take the blasted hint and give me some peace!"

"_Knock Out_," Megatron said, temper fraying.

"Oh, I’m just _fine_," Knock Out exploded. "Now that the Vehicons have decided they want to single-handedly repopulate Cybertron and I’m the only one capable of viable spark transfers. I’m exhausted! And you seem to only be looking after Flash long enough to dump him on me!"

"Who looks after him over nights?" Megatron snapped back, temper shorting out. "You can't even _lift_ him without complaining!"

"He's heavy! Something he gets from you — along with rejecting people."

"_You_ left me to rust on Earth!" Megatron bellowed. "I would have thought you'd know better, after Cylas."

"You think I could've just waltzed off back to Earth and fished you out of the sea?" Knock Out hissed.

"You were certainly _friendly_ enough with the Autobots that finding time on the bridge would have been easy!"

"Easy?!" Knock Out slashed his servo through the air. "I was a prisoner! Not to mention that Flash was twice as difficult to deal with back then. You never knew him at that age."

"And whose fault is that?" Megatron snarled. "You abandoned the fight!"

"Yours! I didn't make you fight Prime!"

"ENOUGH!" Megatron took a step forward, fists clenched.

Knock Out _flinched_.

The sight made Megatron’s oil run cold. _What was he doing?_ First the Autobots, now Knock Out. Would he ever truly throw off the mantle of violence that had been his way for so long?

Megatron took a step back, then another, then turned and ran.

Open skies and soon Megatron was soaring over Cybertron. He didn’t break the atmosphere, but the dark spaces between the stars were tempting.

He couldn’t run, not truly, he had duties. Responsibilities. A promise to Optimus. An obligation to Flash.

The last time Megatron had been able to rest, he’d been dead.

He was sick of having no clear goal.

* * *

A quiet _ping_ reached Megatron’s communications array. He slowed and let Laserbeak catch up.

They flew in silence for some time, Laserbeak drafting off Megatron's slipstream. Then a Ground Bridge opened to Megatron’s left and Soundwave flew out, coming to fly in formation.

Soundwave, unsurprisingly, didn’t say anything, content to fly alongside Megatron, chasing the sunset. His presence was still greatly welcome.

Megatron wasn't alone. Even if he had destroyed things with Knock Out, he had a place here.

His meandering flight path eventually passed over Kaon. He dropped altitude and landed in the old gladiatorial pits. Maybe he could find some peace in returning to his beginnings. Soundwave followed silently and Laserbeak fluttered through the stands, chasing memories of his own.

The floor still held faint blue energon stains, even after all these millennia of disuse. Megatron scuffed a patch that looked strangely like an Autobot brand with his pede.

"I don’t want to hurt him," Megatron said.

Soundwave tilted his helm, questioning.

"I’ve known nothing but violence my entire functioning." Megatron paced, still feeling the need to burn off energy. "How can I translate that into pacifistic domesticity? I’ve injured those we call allies now and, if I hadn’t removed myself from the situation, Knock Out may have been next on the medical slab."

He looked up at the stands. The roar of the crowd echoing in his audials, memory files imposing a grainy horde of attendees in the seats, frothing for spilt energon.

Simple.

"— _Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus!_—"

Megatron turned sharply. Soundwave was playing an old recording. The cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd made Megatron’s spark swell. He’d always revelled in combat.

"— _The match you’ve all been waiting for! That’s right folks, give it up for your favourite gladiators going blade-to-tentacle for the first time ever! The Superior Soundwave versus the Mighty Megatronus!_ —"

The audio quality was poor. Likely from the original source, given the general state of repair of the speakers around the stadiums, rather than Soundwave’s files being corrupted. The announcer had drawn out Megatron’s designation long enough that he’d wondered if he’d have to kill him to get the match started at all.

Megatron laughed. "I fear we are somewhat ill-matched, compared to our past selves."

Soundwave’s armour had changed as much as Megatron’s had, though his had become more light-weight and less durable. No upgrade from the Unmaker for him.

Still, Soundwave readied himself in a combat pose reminiscent of the Pits.

"I’ll kill you," Megatron said.

"Megatron," Soundwave said, in his own rough voice for once, "welcome to try."

Megatron felt his mouth curl up into a smile. Oh, he had _missed_ this.

Megatron launched himself forward. He had no blade this time, no long-range weaponry outside his vehicle mode. He had to close the distance or Soundwave would have the advantage.

Predictably, Soundwave danced back, avoiding Megatron's first swing. He'd always been good at not getting hit. Megatron followed. There was only so far Soundwave could run in the arena and he would tire first.

Something slithered up Megatron's leg. It gripped his knee joint, catching the gears and forcing his footing wide to throw off his aim. One of Soundwave's datacables. The end latched into a gap between Megatron's armoured plates and spat a jolt of electricity into his struts.

Megatron roared at the pain, but no more. Last time Soundwave had electrocuted him, it had nearly been enough for him to forfeit their match. However, either Soundwave's modifications over the course of the war had decreased his output voltage, or Megatron's upgrade had reduced his pain input.

He should concentrate on the fight.

His leg might be trapped, but his servo wasn't. Megatron grabbed Soundwave's cable before he could retract it, turned, and threw Soundwave across the arena.

Soundwave detached the cable from his chassis just in time to land under his own power. It was a messy landing, empty of Soundwave's usual grace.

Megatron shook the discarded cable off his leg and closed the distance again. A string of damage reports popped up whenever he put weight on his injured leg. It would hold, provided Megatron avoided further damage to it.

Soundwave flashed his visor — a tactic that would've blinded a mech without the filters Megatron had built-in to his optics — then switched to a series of strange, hypnotic patterns when Megatron's pursuit didn't slow. Distracting to look at, but Megatron had been fighting Optimus for millennia without getting distracted by his frame.

"Tricks, Soundwave?" Megatron landed a blow that buckled Soundwave's forearm plating. "You should forfeit if you're that desperate."

"— _it's all about the show_ —" the voice of Soundwave's old pit manager said threateningly.

Megatron scored another hit, claws raking through Soundwave's pauldron. Soundwave shoved him back with his remaining datacable — they were always stronger than they looked — and Megatron stumbled, injured knee protesting.

"Then let's put on a show." Megatron forwent his straightforward attack to launch a spinning kick at Soundwave. He missed — as expected — and continued the twist into a dodge as Soundwave brought his cable up.

Fights — _true_ fights — were quick and dirty. Audiences didn't pay hundreds of shanix a seat to watch Megatron dispatch his opponents quickly and sensibly. They wanted the spectacle, the splatter of energon and superficial wounds. They wanted to watch an artist in motion.

And Megatron had been happy to give them that.

The spar turned into something much closer to the start of gladiatorial combat. All flash and little true injury. Megatron lost some of the armour on his forearm and Soundwave took another claw slash, but the rest was enjoying the fluidity of movement.

Eventually, Soundwave's detached datacable made itself a nuisance and tripped Megatron when he came down for a landing. He grunted, annoyed that he hadn't taken enough care of his surroundings. Soundwave latched on immediately with his working datacable and delivered a shock that made Megatron's vocaliser short out and spit static for a long second.

But Soundwave had a terrible habit of gloating in his victory before his foe had been truly vanquished.

"Still so prideful," Megatron said hoarsely then lunged too fast for Soundwave to dodge. Finally, he got to grapple Soundwave and drive him into the arena floor where Megatron's size and mass gave him a clear advantage.

Megatron held Soundwave down, grinding his mask into the rusty pit floor. Soundwave struggled, his datacable whipped up and tried to wrap around Megatron's intake. Megatron bit it, digging in deep with his fangs and not letting go until both the cable and Soundwave went limp.

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeep_.

The sound of a gladiator's submission.

Megatron spat out the cable and got to his pedes. He _ached_ and it felt _amazing_.

Soundwave shakily got to his knees. Megatron offered his servo to help him the rest of the way. Soundwave leant against Megatron heavily.

"A good match," Megatron said.

"— _satisfying_ —"

Megatron picked up Soundwave's detached cable and looped it over his pauldron. An easy fix once they had medical assistance.

"I could fly us," Megatron offered.

Soundwave shook his helm and a Ground Bridge opened before them. He trilled and Laserbeak flew back to them then got frustrated that he couldn't perch on Soundwave's chest like he was used to because it was too dented. He clung to Megatron's arm instead.

The Ground Bridge took them straight to the empty medbay. Megatron opened a line to Knock Out.

"Two patients in the medbay."

"_Who did you scrap_ this _time?_" Came Knock Out's impatient response.

"Just Soundwave and me."

There was a long pause. Laserbeak settled himself in a corner of the ceiling. He seemed annoyed that the medbay walls had changed and removed his favourite perch.

"_Fine. Ten minutes_."

He was terse. Megatron wondered why. Making repairs was usually one of Knock Out's favourite activities.

Soundwave had no insights to offer, so when Knock Out appeared in the doorway and gave them both a critical look, Megatron settled himself on the medical slab without waiting for the order. Knock Out would air his grievances in time — he’d hardly stayed silent about anything that might threaten his finish during the war.

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" Knock Out asked, picking up the welder. "You dropping patients in my medbay? I mean, it clearly was with Starscream, but you’re going to run out of excuses for the Autobots if you keep this up."

_Oh_.

Megatron could read between the lines.

"Soundwave and I will be sparring regularly."

"Hmm." Knock Out brought up Megatron’s baseline stats on the monitor. "And you think that’s a good idea? Keeping your combat protocols hot around Autobots?"

Around _sparklings_.

"I have never not known combat," Megatron said. "I was built for it. I _enjoy_ it. To _not_ fight stresses my combat routines, leaving them verging on chaotic. Structured fights will give me _more_ control, not less."

Knock Out made a disbelieving noise.

"Tell me, Knock Out, how would you cope if you had to stop driving? Not that you’d lost the ability to transform, but that it would be frowned upon if you tried." Megatron leant into Knock Out’s space, not quite threatening, making his point. "Would you be more or less likely to have an accident when you finally broke and took your wheels for a spin?"

"_I_ don’t crash," Knock Out said haughtily.

"And neither do I." Megatron put his servo on Knock Out’s pauldron. "I will not harm you. I will never harm Flash."

"Not even if I asked you nicely?" Knock Out’s easy, get-out-of-trouble smile was back.

Megatron gave an amused hum. "Somehow I doubt it will be my _combat_ protocols running hot if you're asking that."

Knock Out laughed, but there was an edge to it. A distance he was cultivating between them.

Unfortunate.

Megatron needed to bridge the gap. This was a relationship, it would not continue without expended effort.

"I should not have brought Cylas up, I apologise." He'd been doing more of that lately than he'd ever expected to.

"No, you shouldn't have," Knock Out said tightly. A moment later he slumped. "But tempers were running high and I overstepped too."

A leaden feeling Megatron hadn't noticed in his tanks vanished.

"I know looking after a sparkling can be challenging," Megatron said, determined to get this right too, "and having a messy schedule isn't helping, but I will respect your desires for privacy."

"I made the choice to keep him," Knock Out said. "I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'd just like an evening off sometimes, is that too much to ask?"

"No."

Knock Out smiled. He was stunning and Megatron was lucky to have even this little.

"Now hold still." Knock Out lifted the blowtorch again, finally showing his usual pleasure at repair-work. "I'm not having my medical skills called into question again because you squirmed and made your welds uneven."

* * *

After Megatron and Soundwave were given a clean bill of health, Knock Out vanished with a comment about drinking the Wreckers under the table. Soundwave disappeared with Laserbeak and without a word, to do whatever it was he did in his downtime.

Megatron started picking his way to the archive, where Ultra Magnus had said he was going to take Flash that afternoon.

For reasons no one truly understood, Flash loved listening to Ultra Magnus drone on and on about regulations and procedures and would sit and stare up at him with wide, interested optics. Magnus was rather touched by the attention and had put some of his animosity toward Megatron aside in order to spend more time with Flash.

He’d even drafted a sparkling sitting schedule and guidelines and approved it with Megatron, which was all Megatron cared about on the matter.

Megatron found them in the half-built data storage banks. He paused in the doorway, noting that Ultra Magnus was going over information from Project Iacon. The less Flash could understand a subject, the more he enjoyed hearing about it.

The Iacon database held no mention of the Omega Lock. A safety precaution that Megatron cursed Alpha Trion for every other day. It did, however, hold some limited information on the Omega Keys. Until they got Shockwave back, the only progress they could make on reconstructing the Omega Lock was by trying to work backwards from the Keys and reverse engineer the entire thing.

A complex task that few of them had the time to put more than the odd hour into. Even Soundwave, with all the decrypting practice he’d had from deciphering Project Iacon, was unable to puzzle it out in a reasonable time span.

It would have been useful to have Orion Pax back, or even Optimus, with his innate familiarity with ancient relics and his personal connection to Alpha Trion, to figure out the trick behind it all.

But having Optimus or Orion back would be far too tempting. Megatron’s relationship with Knock Out was still brittle and he wanted it to be strong. He _wanted_.

And he didn’t _deserve_.

Orion had known what it was like, Megatron recalled, after Unicron’s first defeat when the Matrix had left him confused and alone.

Megatron had found him curled up on the floor of the _Nemesis_ one day, staring at his servos.

"_It’s not me_," Orion had said, looking at Megatron with optics full of fear. "_I keep expecting to see me and I_ don’t."

Megatron had given him some words of comfort — he wished he could remember exactly what pithy comment he’d made now — and Orion had pulled himself together long enough for Megatron to put him to work.

Maybe he’d thrown himself into it so fully because he didn’t want to acknowledge the changes that had happened to his body. Maybe he’d searched so hard for Optimus Prime within the Decepticon database because he’d felt it would finally fix the ragged edges of unfamiliarity within his own frame.

"_I must know. Who am I?_" He’d begged.

What if his deceit had been more to do with feeling _wrong_ than any misguided notion of what was right?

Megatron disliked regretting things. It spoke of weakness, frailty in one’s past self. But he regretted that he hadn’t helped Orion more. If he had, he might know what to do with himself now.

But Orion was gone. Optimus was dead.

And Megatron had no right wanting Knock Out so much.

* * *

"Shh!"

"You shh!"

"You're going to wake Megs! Shh!"

Megatron opened his optics, squinting through the gloom at the gaggle of shadows that had invaded his berthroom. Four of them, all stumbling and giggling and shushing each other.

Overcharged then. Fantastic.

They were making their way over to Flash's walled berth, occasionally careening off the wall or tripping over nothing.

"There he is," Knock Out tried to whisper — loud enough to be heard on Earth. "Cutest sparkling you'll ever see."

It occurred to Megatron that the last time someone had drunkenly stumbled into his room, it had been an assassination attempt. He should have been more alert and expelled the intruders before they’d gotten so close to Flash.

He'd grown soft, living with Autobots.

"Let's wake him," that was Smokescreen.

"But he looks so cute in recharge," Bulkhead said.

"And he looksh — looks — cute when he's looking at you with huge optics," Smokescreen argued.

Their drunken discussion was doing a good enough job of waking Flash, nevermind their intentions. The sparkling stirred, whimpering.

A chorus of _awws_ came from the overcharged gaggle. Megatron got to his pedes. Someone was going to have to be the fully-upgraded frame here, and it didn't look like it was going to be any of them.

"Oh scrap!"

"Don't swear in front of the — oh, Megatron!"

"We were being quiet, we swear."

"Yeah, Flash started waking up for no reason."

Useless, the lot of them.

Megatron reached past them and picked up Flash, who was staring blankly in the way that meant he was a wire trigger away from bursting into sobs. He snuggled into Megatron's shoulder.

"_Aww_, now we can't see him," Smokescreen complained.

"I will deal with all of you in the morning," Megatron hissed.

He was glad to see the Autobots cringe in fear. Good to know he was still threatening when he wanted to be, drooling sparkling slumped against him or no.

Knock Out, however, grinned and cocked his hip.

"I'll make it up to you," he purred. He put a pede on Megatron's knee guard and gripped his clavicle armour then hoisted himself up until he was optic to optic with Megatron. "I promise."

Bumblebee whooped as Knock Out finished with a kiss tasting of high-grade. Flash stirred again but thankfully didn't wake.

Smokescreen whispered something to Bumblebee and they both broke down into giggles. Megatron paid them no mind, choosing to focus on making sure he didn't drop Flash while Knock Out was busy with him.

That was his mistake.

Megatron jumped when servos gripped his back plating and pedes dug into the backs of his knees. It was only with great effort that Megatron managed to keep his legs straight and stay upright.

The culprits made themselves known a second later, as a sports car leant over each of Megatron's shoulders, yelping whenever they misjudged and leant too heavily on a spiked section.

"I'm on the wrong side, I still can't see," Smokescreen complained.

"If you fall I'm not catching you," Megatron said, annoyed that he couldn't shake them off while holding Flash.

"That's what Bulkhead's for, right, buddy?" Bumblebee said.

Megatron tilted his helm until he could see past Knock Out. Bulkhead was giggling like Starscream drunkenly planning a plot, barely holding himself upright against the wall.

"I'm sure he'll do a great job," Megatron said, glaring at him. "Get off."

Bulkhead gulped, the tiny sober part of him pointing out that Megatron was still a threat, and decided that discretion was the better form of valour.

"I should go check on Jackie and Arcee," he said, edging toward the door, "they were gonna look at some grenades, I think."

Fantastic. If Megatron's humiliation wasn't enough for the night, they'd be lucky if even half the town was still intact tomorrow, given Wheeljack's preference for explosions.

"Aww," Smokescreen said.

"Get off," Megatron said again.

"I'll get _you_ off," Knock Out leered.

"Last time you were this overcharged you — stop that," Megatron fended off Bumblebee's attempt to grab Flash. "That's enough."

Flash had thankfully stayed pretty dozy throughout the whole encounter and didn't complain when Megatron clumsily laid him back in his walled berth with one and a half servos. The racers grumbled.

"Is it just me or are we really really really high up?" Smokescreen said, a fearful edge entering his voice.

Megatron grabbed Smokescreen and Bumblebee by one door each and held them both at arm's length. The scowl he'd hoped to level at both of them and have them pleading for their lives was undercut by Knock Out kissing him again.

"Don't be mad," Knock Out said, with a nip at Megatron's lip. "I'll do whatever you want."

Megatron sighed. He really was getting soft.

"Get on the berth," Megatron said.

"A foursome? Think you can keep up with all of us?" Knock Out said, smirking to cover up his unease.

Bumblebee choked on air and Smokescreen started babbling excuses. Megatron ignored them.

It might have been the stuff of some mechs’ dreams, having three flashy sports cars to interface with. However, Smokescreen was far too young and Megatron always got a phantom feeling of either a sword through his spark or a voicebox crumpling under his servo when he spent any length of time around Bumblebee. A feeling that he was sure was mutual, given the weird looks on Bumblebee's faceplates from time to time.

Plus, Knock Out would never forgive him.

"Berth. Now."

Knock Out finally dropped back to the ground and sauntered over to the berth, his overcharged state making his sway look clumsy, rather than sexy.

Megatron went to the door and dumped the other two overcharged idiots out into his main room.

"Go and find somewhere to recharge," Megatron ordered. He didn’t have any expectation of them obeying him in their condition, but it was on their own helms if they were going to make fools of themselves.

Megatron turned back to his berth. Just like last time Knock Out had drunkenly whispered all sorts of promises into Megatron's audial, he’d passed out the second he was horizontal.

At least he'd left his panels closed this time.

And just like the first time Knock Out had wound up in his berth, the sight was still unimaginable. It didn't make sense. Pretty little civilians like Knock Out weren’t meant for the likes of Megatron.

The last civilian Megatron had wanted had been destroyed. Spark, frame, and processor. Poor Orion Pax had never meant to be entangled with a rough, unseemly gladiator. Megatron's attention had been as toxic as dark energon and he should know better than to try again.

However, Megatron was here now and _nothing_ would separate him from this strange little family unit he'd stumbled into. He was going to keep what was his.

Megatron nudged Knock Out until he moved over and settled down in berth. It would likely be a long night — there was every chance _someone_ would purge — but at least he'd gotten used to that after a couple of months of sparkling care.

* * *

"On three. One… two… _three!_"

Flash squealed at a pitch Megatron had never been able to make his vocaliser reach.

The effect was beautiful.

Megatron had turned his audials off temporarily, but the recharging mechs had no warning.

Bumblebee jumped to high alert. Or would have if he hadn't been half pinned under Smokescreen, who matched Flash's shriek for volume, if not pitch, and tried to roll away only to faceplant at Megatron’s pedes.

"Sadist," Bumblebee whimpered, squinting a glare at Megatron.

"Decepticon," Megatron said, grinning.

"I’m gonna lie here and die, ‘sokay?" Smokescreen told the floor.

Megatron sighed.

"Get up. I’m sure Knock Out can —"

"Knock Out’s doing _nothing_ until someone brings me some mid-grade and a fifteen-watt pain dampener," Knock Out grumbled from the berth, baleful red optics glowing in the low light.

Megatron might be getting soft-sparked enough to feel sorry for a miserable Smokescreen, but he was never going to be pathetic enough to coddle three racers through the results of their own foolish decision to drink more than their share of high-grade.

"We’re going to fuel," Megatron said, guiding Flash around the sprawl of limbs in the doorway. "Go bother someone else."

"Evil," Bumblebee grunted.

Flash looked concerned. "Should we help?"

"Sometimes mechs make stupid decisions and have to live with the consequences," Megatron said. "It’s their own fault for drinking too much high-grade."

"Smokescreen helped me when I drank all that ship energon," Flash said, tugging at Megatron’s servo. "And Bulkhead says friends help friends."

It was a fight not to scoff at Autobot sentimentality coming out of Flash’s vocaliser. Megatron stopped walking and Flash slipped out of his grip and ran back to where Smokescreen was still contemplating the floor.

"Hey, Smoke, c’mon." Flash ineffectually tried to get Smokescreen to sit up.

"Stop shouting," Smokescreen moaned.

Satisfied that Flash’s high-pitched voice was the last thing the overcharged Autobots wanted — and therefore decent revenge for last night’s escapades — Megatron stepped back into his room.

Knock Out had made it out of berth, but was now in vehicle mode on the floor. Presumably in an attempt to dull his senses. It was rather pathetic.

But then, Megatron reflected as he retrieved a cube of low-grade from Flash’s nighttime supplies, he was the one in a relationship with him.

"Transform," Megatron ordered, "I’ve got energon."

"Low-grade swill," Knock Out grumbled.

"This or nothing," Megatron said. "Or I get Flash in here to help you."

Flash’s squeaking at the Autobots was clearly audible through the open door. Knock Out shuddered and slowly transformed, keeping his optics barely open.

"I hope his vocaliser gets reinforced soon," Knock Out said as he took the tiny cube from Megatron. He threw it back in one shot and pulled a face. "_Bleh_. Almost as bad as protometal."

Domesticity — of a sort.

* * *

"And you're confident that you will have no trouble with this task?" Megatron asked.

Soundwave gave a tolerant nod. He was humouring Megatron’s glitching creator protocols as Flash chased a joyful Laserbeak across the town square. Soundwave was carrying an armful of datapads and low-grade while Megatron held Flash's walled berth over his helm.

"— _it will be good for Flash_ —" Soundwave said in Ultra Magnus’s voice.

Megatron grimaced. "If he wasn't so useful…"

"— _is this better, Lord Megatron?_ —" came Starscream's voice this time.

"When did you grow a sense of humour?" Megatron grumbled, but only lightly. It was nice that Soundwave felt comfortable enough with Megatronto joke.

It had been so long since Soundwave had last dared to show amusement in Megatron's presence.

"— _I need my alone time_ —" Knock Out said through Soundwave's speakers, then, stitched together from several orders Megatron had given: "— _I — need my — alone — time_ —" then it was Wheeljack: "— _you know who could use some unwinding time? — Megatron_ —" then Ultra Magnus again: "— _Megatron does not log all his shifts_ —"

"Yes, yes, I understand the necessity," Megatron interrupted before he could drag up incriminating comments from everyone.

How to explain that he trusted Flash in the care of another and trusted in Soundwave's sparkling-wrangling skills, but also that he knew how difficult Flash could be — especially overnight — and didn't want to subject Soundwave to the worst his sparkling was capable of. And unexpected things happened all the time and what if Soundwave didn't know what to do in a crisis? Sometimes _Megatron_ didn't know how to deal with Flash and he was his _creator_.

Fretful loops like that were half the reason Megatron was doing this.

"— _just overnight_ —" Soundwave promised, "— _I'll let you know_ — _if anything happens_ —"

The stress was on the wrong word. Megatron readjusted his grip on the berth.

"It will be fine, I'm not worrying," Megatron lied.

Soundwave was always good at letting his silence speak for him.

"I'm doing it," Megatron said. "That should be enough. I don't have to _like_ it."

A friendly, non-judgemental silence settled between them. They reached Soundwave's habsuite — a small, plain room that made up for its lack of floorspace by being twice as high as Megatron's quarters — and Laserbeak settled on his perch, trilling a long string of beeps at Flash, explaining how he slept on it. Flash bounced over, jabbering back at ridiculous speeds.

Megatron set Flash's berth down at Soundwave's indication and stepped back. It was fine.

"Let me know if _anything_ happens," Megatron said.

Soundwave nodded. He was being tolerant again, but Megatron would take it.

"Flash?" Megatron said. Flash looked up, but didn't leave Laserbeak's roost. "I'm going now. Have fun overnight with Soundwave and Laserbeak."

"Okay," Flash chirped, already losing interest in Megatron to return to his chat with Laserbeak.

_Sparklings_.

"Goodbye, Flash," Megatron said.

At least Flash seemed happy. Megatron gave Soundwave a nod and left.

It was strange, having downtime without little sparkling pedes tripping along after Megatron's long strides. It would be fine.

"Hey!"

The shout was friendly, but Megatron still had to preempt his battle protocols from reacting to the Autobot's voice. So long at war had the coding so deeply entrenched that Megatron's attempts to patch his systems were flakey at best.

He should get Shockwave to properly overhaul his combat systems when they finally unearthed his location.

"Oh, no bitlet?" Bulkhead was disappointed as he approached Megatron.

"He's with Soundwave."

"You know, you'll have to trust us with him sooner or later," Bulkhead said, optics narrowed. "Knock Out does."

"I trust some Autobots," Megatron snapped. "Not ones who couldn't see him through a moult properly."

Bulkhead crossed his arms. "Hey, it wasn't like _you_ knew what was going on either."

Megatron bristled at the chastisement from an _Autobot_. He had to force his battle protocols to power-down again. From the way Bulkhead's fist started to twitch into transformation before he got control of it, he wasn't the only one still struggling to properly categorise friend and foe.

"You know, Knock Out's not that bad," Bulkhead said. "Especially not with the bitlet in tow."

Megatron's engine revved and he had to fight his combat protocols back yet again. Jealousy would not be useful here.

"They've got bots willing to fight for them, even against you." Bulkhead punched his fist into his other servo.

"Is that a threat?" Megatron asked, bemused.

It encouraged Megatron to know he wasn't seen as weak by his former enemies. He was still a danger, even though he'd lost.

On the other servo, Bulkhead looked a bit abashed by his observation.

"Flash is hope," he said. "Even if he's _yours_. You know, it almost makes more sense, him being Dreadwing's."

"Don't you think there's a reason Knock Out didn't trust you enough to tell you who Flash's sire really was?" Megatron said. "What he feared _Autobots_ would do to a helpless sparkling if they found out he shared _my_ code?"

"We wouldn't hurt a sparkling."

"Perhaps not," Megatron allowed. Optimus wouldn't have let them do anything — at least not directly. "But threaten one? If I hadn't changed my mind would Flash have been used as a shield between my rage and your sparks?"

"No!" Bulkhead managed to look horrified at the very idea.

"No? No chance of a: _here's a sparkling, Megatron, don't you want to stop your rampage because he has your optics_?"

"But that's not threatening him," Bulkhead said.

"You'd introduce a sparkling to a fight purely to force a reaction out of your foe," Megatron said. "And _that_ is why Knock Out didn't tell you he was mine."

"You were dead," Bulkhead said stubbornly. "That wasn't Knock Out's reasoning."

"Oh _really_."

"Autobots aren't Decepticons. We know you killed Dreadwing and tried to kill Airachnid," Bulkhead said. "Not to mention everything with Starscream. And they were all your allies. It makes sense, you know, that Knock Out thought we'd be bad — because _you_ were."

All uncomfortably true. Megatron flexed his digits, fighting back the urge to return to Soundwave's quarters and demand a match to burn off frustration.

Bulkhead looked pained. "Scrap. I'm not trying to break the truce."

"If insults had been enough the war would have reignited several times over by now," Megatron snorted.

"Look, I'm just saying," Bulkhead paused, clearly considering his words carefully. "It's pretty terrible that you trashed me and Jackie, but Knock Out did a good job fixing us up. If the truce breaks down, Knock Out and the bitlet have a place here. It's great having someone new to teach lob-ball to."

"You would protect them? _My_ mate and a sparkling of _my_ code?"

"Well, _yeah_."

Easy words, yet Megatron couldn't detect a lie.

Soft-sparked Autobots.

However, it was still a surprising relief. To know that Flash would be safe, even if Megatron fell to Unicron's influence or lost his way again.

"I should not have reacted with violence when I saw Flash moulting," Megatron said. He ground his denta, but managed to spit out, "I apologise for your injuries."

"Huh," Bulkhead said. "Didn't expect that."

Megatron turned away. "If we are done here, I would like to return to my quarters."

"One last thing," Bulkhead said. "Heard you've been fighting with Soundwave for practice."

Surely they couldn't be considering restricting Megatron's only source of stress-relief? He ex-vented harshly.

"What of it?"

"We'd like to join in. Me, Jackie, and Arcee." Bulkhead shrugged when Megatron looked back at him with a raised optic ridge. "What? We used to train together during the war — it was fun."

"Speak to Soundwave," Megatron decided. "He can contact you when we're feeling like taking it easy."

Bulkhead just laughed.

* * *

All thoughts of the complexities of sparing with Autobots left Megatron's processor when he entered his rooms and found Knock Out waiting for him. He was leaning against the wall, shining brilliantly, despite the low lighting that Megaron prefered.

"Smooth handover?" Knock Out asked.

"Better than expected. There may be tears later when he realises what happened."

Knock Out crossed his arms and smiled. "Nothing Soundwave can't handle, I'm sure."

Megatron nodded. It would be fine. Soundwave was capable and Flash was durable. It would be fine.

"So…" Knock Out said, his lean against the wall shifting just slightly from _relaxed_ to _sensual_. "I recall making some kind of promise last night and it doesn’t _feel_ like you took me up on it. Want me to make good on it now?"

Megatron looked at the door to his berthroom. With the door open, he could see where Flash’s berth usually sat.

"You need a distraction," Knock Out said decisively.

"Perhaps," Megatron allowed.

"Get on the berth," Knock Out said. He straightened from the wall and followed Megatron through into the berthroom. Then he came to stand between Megatron’s legs as he sat on the edge of the berth.

Long, clever digits hooked into Megatron’s clavicle armour and Knock Out pulled him down into a kiss. Megatron pulled him closer, enjoying the scrape of smooth, polished metal against his chest plate. Knock Out gasped into Megatron’s mouth at the sensation — out of pleasure or outrage at his finish being scuffed, Megatron couldn’t tell until he heard the _click_ of Knock Out’s panel sliding back.

Knock Out was right, this _was_ a good distraction.

Knock Out surged forward, not breaking the kiss, but insistently trying to climb into Megatron’s lap until Megatron grabbed his aft and hoisted him up. He fit like he belonged there.

Megatron hissed as Knock Out nipped his lip, pulling back to see the hunger on his face.

"Going to spike me this time?" Knock Out ground his hot, wet valve onto Megatron's thigh, staining it orange with lubricant. "Or are you going to leave me _empty_ again?"

"You’ll be more than full." Megatron slid his panel out of the way and let his aching spike finally pressurise.

Knock Out looked down and recoiled. Megatron bit his glossa to avoid saying anything. He knew, he _knew_ he was disgusting. Having Knock Out confirm it so clearly made his intake shiver.

"I’m going to personally offline the mech who first thought barbs was a good idea," Knock Out said. "I hope you won’t take offence if we spend half an hour in the medbay getting rid of those?"

Megatron looked at his pressurised spike properly for the first time. He’d avoided looking since his resurrection, so he hadn’t realised there were vicious hooks down the entire length. He’d already known the layers he used to have were gone, the dedicated subroutines having been deleted during his unwanted upgrade.

Thankfully, Knock Out was good at taking spikes bigger than his frame suggested he'd be able to manage.

"I thought you were against removing Unicron’s alterations," Megatron said. He didn't want to keep the barbs, but it was always useful to know how consistent someone's rationale was.

"Well… you don’t _have_ to, but I’m not riding a spike with barbs. End of story," Knock Out said. "It’s just a cosmetic tweak."

"Explain the difference."

Knock Out ex-vented sharply. "It’s… how to put this? Did you ever train other gladiators in the Pits?"

"A few."

"So if we compare training to normal medical check-ups or necessary surgeries. Sometimes things just go wrong, but it’s mostly safe and careful, right?" Knock Out said. "And surgeries, like replacing your arm or removing the superluminal drive, are like spectator matches. Dangerous, but necessary to survival, if that makes sense?"

Megatron nodded, unable to see where he was going with this.

"Now imagine a gladiator comes out of a hard-won match, he’s covered in energon and has more than a few open wounds, yet he demands to be part of the next fight because the winning rush felt so good. Maybe he would win that fight, and the one after that, but he’ll fall soon and no one could predict when," Knock Out said. "Would you let him fight or would you force rest?"

"You believe I didn’t know my own limits," Megatron said.

"You could barely stand upright and you were demanding I chop you up further," Knock Out said. "Out of the two of us, who’s spent most of their functioning as a medic?"

Not for the first time, Megatron missed the ability to _demand_ his way.

Yet, Knock Out had listened when Megatron had explained his reasoning for returning to fighting with Soundwave. As easy as it would be to fall into old habits when feeling off-balance from one too many difficult conversations — as Megatron was currently — taking the easy way out was not something Megatron did.

"Very well." Megatron got to his pedes and forced his spike back behind his panel. "I bow to your superior expertise in this matter."

* * *

"All done." Knock Out dropped his pliers on the bench. He considered for a moment, then tapped Megatron's valve cover. "I could take a look in here too since you're already on the slab."

Megatron grimaced and opened his panel. Once with internal barbs had been enough for a lifetime and he didn't want to harm Knock Out, on the off chance that Knock Out decided to use his spike for once.

"Cycle open," Knock Out said, then slid a speculum in when Megatron did so. "Good. Looks clear, but maybe —"

Megatron jumped when the speculum shot a jolt of electricity into his valve.

"All clear," Knock Out said quickly, pulling the speculum out with practised speed.

"What was that for?!" Megatron snarled, snapping his panels shut and getting to his pedes.

"A quick test to see how you’d react to charge," Knock Out explained. "Some… let’s call them defences, don’t appear until the invading spike has built up enough charge."

"And you didn't think to warn me?!"

"Frag me," Knock Out said intently.

The abrupt request and burn of excitement in Knock Out’s optics threw Megatron's anger subroutine into confusion.

"What?"

"Frag me, right now," Knock Out pressed his servo against Megatron’s spike panel. "On the slab. Hard."

Megatron had plenty of experience with angry interfacing, but never with someone he'd been trying to build up a trusting relationship with. Why imperil a vulnerable connection by opening yourself up to another's anger? But Knock Out’s optics were bright and Megatron could smell his building charge.

His anger evaporated, the processor space usurped by his interfacing protocols. However, if Knock Out wanted it rough, all he had to do was ask.

Megatron grabbed Knock Out and shoved him facedown onto the slab. Knock Out’s panel flew open, exposing a pretty valve that was already dripping lubricant.

"You’ve made me wait long enough," Knock Out said, angling his aft higher.

It was a wonderful image. Megatron took a moment to admire it before he lined his spike up and slid in. It had been far too long since he’d last spiked a ready valve.

"You still fit me so well," Megatron grunted, as he pressed deeper into the welcoming softness.

Knock Out clawed at the slab, vents coming in short bursts. Megatron grabbed Knock Out’s hips and pulled him all the way down. It was a tighter fit than Megatron remembered.

"_Oh_. You’re even _bigger_," Knock Out gasped reverently.

Megatron ignored that and ground down. Knock Out made a choked whine. Megatron pulled out some.

"Am I too much?" Megatron asked.

"It's fine, as long as you don’t stop now," Knock Out pushed back. "Fill me up and make me feel it."

Megatron pressed in deep again. There was a short _whirr_ of transformation, then the slide became easier. He’d never had anyone so willing to open themselves up for him. It was rare that a smaller-framed mech — and they were _always_ smaller-framed than Megatron — wanted his entire spike.

"Harder," Knock Out demanded.

Megatron increased his pace, then checked to make sure he wasn't damaging Knock Out.

"Keep it up," Knock Out said, "I'm not going to overload if you go slower than a Vliskaar snail."

Megatron tried, but no matter how much he reminded himself that Knock Out was a capable warrior and had never been permanently injured by their coupling in the past, he was still a small, pretty civilian-build that Megatron could snap in half with one servo.

His careful fragging eventually frustrated Knock Out too much.

"Stop. I'm getting on top," Knock Out said, pushing at Megatron until he unmounted.

Megatron re-took his position on the medical slab and Knock Out climbed up over him. He looked gorgeous like this, Megatron watched Knock Out spread his mesh with his digits and lower himself onto Megatron's spike with a blissful expression.

"That's the depth I was looking for," Knock Out sighed.

"You look amazing like this," Megatron said.

"I always look amazing." But Knock Out was preening at the praise anyway.

It was much better this way, being able to easily see that Megatron wasn't hurting him. To know that every gasp and whimper was accompanied by pure pleasure on his face or sly smiles that made Megatron’s spark sing.

"Beautiful."

Knock Out rewarded his praise with the particular pattern of calliper squeezes that always made Megatron's ventilation cycle reboot. He was _good_ at interface and Megatron was lucky to be given such an opportunity.

He felt his overload approaching with worrying rapidity. Perhaps some self-service sometime in the last couple of months would have been a good idea.

It didn't matter, Megatron could keep his spike pressured for as long as Knock Out needed it. It wouldn't be the first time Knock Out used him for his own pleasure after Megatron had already found his release.

"Mmm, I missed this." Knock Out gave a breathy moan as he ground down, valve soft and hot and _perfect_ around Megatron's spike.

Knock Out’s claws dug into Megatron’s transformation seams. He arched into the sting.

"More," Megatron said. "Sharper."

"Oh? You want me to take you apart?" Knock Out traced his digits across Megatron’s plating, then twisted them suddenly into a vent.

It felt so good to _feel_ when his upgraded armour made everything dull. Megatron was holding back his overload by the enamel of his denta.

Knock Out rippled his callipers and scratched sharp claw tips against the sensitive undersides of heavy plates and Megatron tumbled over the edge. Overload tore through him and crashed every last one of his systems.

Lights out.

Shut down.

* * *

Megatron’s optics came back online. He blinked, disoriented, as he rebooted.

"You do know how to flatter a mech." Knock Out’s voice took far too long to parse.

Megatron wondered if an apology would be fitting. His emotional subsystems were onlining randomly and he decided to hold his glossa to stop anything ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

"No, don’t you dare depressurise," Knock Out said, clenching around Megatron’s spent spike. "I’m not far off."

Megatron managed to find the command to keep his spike pressurised just before the automated disengagement procedure completed. He reset his vocaliser, feeling a rough edge of static — had he shouted before passing out?

"How long —"

"Less than a minute." Knock Out’s shiny red chassis caught the light, accentuating glossy, curved metal plating, far too pretty to be touching Megatron.

Megatron forced that thought back. He was good enough — Knock Out had come to _him_ this time.

"I was starting to wonder how I was going to explain it to the Autobots," Knock Out continued, voice surprisingly smooth for his fast pace. His digits were busy between his legs, while his other servo was braced on Megatron’s chest. "All that time fighting and all it took to offline you was a good. Hard. Frag."

"An epitaph _you’d_ be pleased with, no doubt." Megatron ran his servos up smooth thighs and gave Knock Out’s aft a squeeze, before tracing upwards to his headlights.

Knock Out smirked. "Who doesn’t like to know that their skills are appreciated?"

He’d never been subtle when angling for praise. Megatron liked to indulge him, liked the way he preened at the words that came so obvious and natural to Megatron’s glossa.

"And your skills are parallelled only by your beauty," Megatron said.

"_Mmm_, flatterer."

"I merely tell the truth. And the truth is: you look incredible, impaled on my spike. I could watch you ride me all day."

Knock Out's rhythm stuttered. Megatron greedily saved several image-captures to his long-term memory.

"My pretty, little, doctor," Megatron murmured.

Knock Out overloaded with a cut-off gasp, valve clenching and headlights glowing brightly. He slumped forward, rocking against his servo through the last of his charge.

He eventually stilled and Megatron let his spike finally depressurise. His array ached, but it was a good ache. Well-used and sticky with his partner's lubricant.

Megatron circled his arms carefully around Knock Out's chassis. That was something lovers did, wasn't it? Knock Out didn't complain.

"I would like my sword back," Megatron said, emboldened by the sight of the bowl of barbs on the work surface.

Knock Out gave a short nod. "It won’t be precisely the same, but I’m sure I can find something suitable."

Relief flooded Megatron's emotional processor, not dissimilar to the time Knock Out had removed his superluminal drive. Warm and giddy, an image of a clean frame danced before Megatron's optics.

"Also the —"

"No," Knock Out interrupted, sitting up and meeting Megatron’s optics with surprising seriousness, "Just so we’re clear, I can and will replace anything you want me to, but one at a time and on my chosen schedule, not yours. Understand?"

Megatron could be patient. He nodded.

"Would you like to recharge in my berth tonight?" Megatron asked, voice more hopeful than he intended. "With me?"

Knock Out smirked. "I certainly hope you’re not going to make me go back to my own quarters alone and limping like this."

Megatron frowned. He'd tried to avoid being rough. Damage when he’d tried to prevent it was hardly the path he was trying to stay on.

"Are you injured?"

"Hardly." Knock Out waved him off. "I have to shift my hip actuators to take you and they take their time realigning, that's all. Nothing permanent."

Megatron wasn't sure what the correct response to that was. _Thank you for modifying your components so I can spike you_ was a bit formal. _Sorry for the size of my spike_ felt too immodest. _You needn't make lingering transformations just to indulge our interface life_ was just pointless when it had been Knock Out requesting the frag to begin with.

"Do you want me to carry you?"

"Let me have _some_ dignity."

Megatron held Knock Out’s servo as they made the trip to Megatron’s habsuite. Knock Out’s room was closer to the medical bay, but he admitted that the berth wasn’t big enough for both of them.

"I know you only stayed because Prime asked," Knock Out said.

"Untrue. I stayed for Flash."

Knock Out nodded, like he'd expected that. Surely he hadn't hoped that Megatron had stayed for _him?_

But then Knock Out had a wide insecure streak that one would never consider when presented with his brash exterior. Did Megatron have a way to help with that?

Enough of being hesitant. Megatron was a mech of action, not fainting passivity.

"This relationship is a welcome bonus," Megatron said. "Without you, I would have taken Flash and left Cybertron to the Autobots."

"And they would have made a mess of things, no doubt," Knock Out said, voice lighter.

"We still can," Megatron promised rashly. "You, me, and Flash. There are other planets that can support us. The Autobots would be happy for me to take my redemption elsewhere."

"Tempting, but no thanks," Knock Out said. "I've got a deal with the Autobots for Earth-based polishes and I'm unlikely to get a better option."

The remark was flippant, but Knock Out's digits were gentle in Megatron's servo. Perhaps he wouldn't be unamenable to a steadier, more intimate relationship.

It wasn't like either of them currently had many options.

They reached Megatron's rooms. Knock Out let go of his servo to go and sprawl on the berth.

Megatron felt an odd pang of loss when he looked at the place Flash's walled berth usually sat. It was ridiculous, he was in need of a break from sparkling wake-ups, but he missed the little scrap anyway.

"I missed this," Knock Out said. "My berth doesn't have this much _space_."

"Given the paint scuffs I found on it after my… absence, I thought you'd made good use of it."

Knock Out waved a servo. "Prime had it for a bit, any red will be from him."

Optimus had used his berth?

Megatron's tanks gave an odd shiver. Of all the ways he had fantasised about getting Optimus into his berth, the notion that it had taken his _death_ was chilling.

And now Optimus was dead and Megatron wouldn't get another chance to tempt him in.

"Well?" Knock Out's voice brought Megatron out of his ruminating. "Are you going to stand there all night or are we going to recharge?"

Though why waste thoughts on a dead mech when he had a pretty little medic to tempt instead?

"You'll have to move out of the middle," Megatron said.

"I like it here," Knock Out said playfully. Then, mouth sly, "make me."

He yelped when Megatron grabbed the wheel well in his ankle and yanked, adding more red paint to the dark grey sheet metal. Megatron caught Knock Out up in a kiss before he could complain.

Convenient or not, this was good. This was _fun_.

"My berth, my rules," Megatron growled.

"Does that mean you’re _not_ going to fulfil my requests?" Knock Out asked innocently. It wasn't a look he could pull off. "Or was it some other mech who licked me until his jaw hydraulics seized just because I asked?"

"You don’t ask, you demand."

"And you love it." Knock Out kissed Megatron before he could respond to that.

Knock Out was just saying things; it didn't mean anything. Megatron pressed deeper into the kiss, enjoying the smooth rev of Knock Out's engine underneath him.

For once, Knock Out fell into recharge first. Megatron's thoughts were spinning too loudly to drop off just yet.

He’d always made Knock Out come to him, Megatron realised.

Before it was practical. Megatron was the commander of not just the _Nemesis_, but the entire Decepticon faction. Giving Knock Out the autonomy to decide when and _if_ their dalliances happened was the only way Megatron was able to mitigate the difference in status at all.

But that was before.

Before the end of the Decepticons. Before peace. Before _Flash_.

Megatron looked at Knock Out, slumbering peacefully against his shoulder plating. Even now it was still Knock Out initiating.

Was it because he didn't want Knock Out?

Megatron nearly snorted aloud at the thought. Who _didn't_ want Knock Out? He was a stunning, skilled, sharp little mech. Plus he hadn’t been complicit in an assassination attempt in a few months now.

He should let Knock Out know before one of the Autobots came to the same conclusion.

* * *

Megatron onlined with uncertain urgency pulsing against his processor.

_Flash_. It was late for his midnight feed. Half-asleep, Megatron started to sit up, only to find something on his arm.

Knock Out grumbled and dug sharp claw tips into Megatron's chest plate as his recharge was disturbed. The evening's events slowly came back to Megatron — Flash was with Soundwave.

With a yawn, Megatron settled back down, tucking Knock Out into his side again.

He checked his HUD for messages. Nothing. It was fine, Soundwave had been a gladiator in the Pits as much as Megatron had and had dealt with just as many overcharged idiots from time to time — a sparkling would be easy. It would be fine.

"... go t'sleep…" Knock Out mumbled. "... keepin' m'up…"

Megatron tried to quiet his processor, but little thoughts kept spinning terrible _what-if_ scenarios.

Knock Out sighed and his optics squinted open. "Do you need another overload?"

"No."

"Then go to sleep."

"I'm trying!" Megatron snapped.

_Damnit_, he was meant to be better than that. He wasn't meant to snap at Knock Out.

Knock Out didn't cower, thankfully, instead, he hoisted himself up to straddle Megatron's torso. He was serious, but there was something that looked like sympathy in his optics.

"Tell me about the places you visited when you went looking for dark energon," Knock Out said.

Megatron frowned. "Why?"

"You need a distraction," Knock Out said. "Believe me, I know, I've been there. What?" he laughed at Megatron's expression, "did you think it was easy for me to recharge the first night you took Flash?"

"How did you avoid worrying?"

"Self-serviced until I exhausted myself," Knock Out said flippantly, as though that was appealing in the slightest. "And half a cube of high-grade did the rest."

Megatron grimaced. Knock Out leant forward until he was lying on Megatron, servos folded under his chin. He was —

He was accepting this as a real relationship and offering Megatron comfort when he needed it. The thought warmed Megatron and he let his servo stroke down Knock Out's back. Knock Out's engine purred in contentment, Megatron's heavier engine thrummed in response.

"So, go on," Knock Out prompted. "Where did you find dark energon?"

"When the Thirteen Primes fought Unicron, their battle was galaxy-wide," Megatron said. "I searched for planets and cultures that held myths of the fight, as where the fighting happened, so too would injuries of both the Primes and the Chaos Bringer…"

* * *

The next morning, Megatron woke to clever digits playing over his codpiece. He preempted his emergency combat protocols and enjoyed a lazy onlining for the first time since the war started.

"Mmm, about time." Knock Out pressed a kiss to Megatron's mouth when his optics opened. "I want your spike again."

"Do you ever not?" Megatron released his spike into excellent servos.

Knock Out didn't spend long teasing and soon he was sinking down onto Megatron with a happy little sigh. He set a slow, easy pace, confident enough that Megatron had a sudden epiphany why Knock Out had been late to morning meetings so often.

Megatron shook the thought off and let Knock Out direct him to keep his servos above his helm.

Twice, Megatron was close to overload and Knock Out _stopped_. Going so far as to get off Megatron's spike entirely and order him to rev his engine to test which parts of Megatron's chassis gave the best vibration against his open, wet valve.

It was the third time — when Megatron was hissing and snarling — that Knock Out allowed him to overload.

At least he didn’t reboot this time.

Knock Out overloaded at the same time, the extra charge dragging Megatron’s release out and leaving them both wonderfully sated. Megatron couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a welcoming onlining.

It was far too tempting to stay in berth all day, but duty called.

"I need to pick up Flash," Megatron said between long, lingering kisses.

"Wash first," Knock Out insisted, tapping a claw against Megatron's chest.

Ah, yes, lubricant stains. Obviously _valve_ lubricant stains at that. Not to mention the scrapes of red paint that had managed to transfer in all the most incriminating places — the price of a brightly painted lover.

Until a better plumbing solution was reached the washracks were still a communal space. Only one of the sprays was high enough for Megatron’s use and he had to schedule his showers to avoid Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead, who both also needed to use the same spray.

Thankfully, it was free. Knock Out — ever the exhibitionist — picked a lower spray in the middle of the racks and started scrubbing transfluid off his inner thighs.

Megatron took as little time as possible to get rid of the evidence of interfacing and left Knock Out to his usual long, decadent shower. Logically, he knew Flash was functioning and safe — if something had happened then Soundwave would have made contact — but he couldn’t stop his creator protocols pinging him every few minutes to make sure.

Flash was bright and chirpy when Megatron arrived at Soundwave's habsuite. He was chattering a mile a minute to Laserbeak, while Soundwave went over morning reports.

A thin thread of envy slipped into Megatron's emotional processes at how _easy_ everyone else was able to take care of Flash. He indulged it for a moment, then throttled it when Soundwave looked over.

He was doing fine as a creator and there was no need to compare himself to others.

It helped when Flash caught sight of Megatron and launched himself across the room with a massive grin.

"Megatron!"

Megatron braced himself for the hug — if Flash got any more mass he'd be able to knock Megatron off-balance, he'd already surpassed Arcee in height and was threatening to make Knock Out look short if he kept up his current growth projections.

Megatron patted Flash's shoulder. His protoform was starting to harden. A nice, plain silver with no hint of Unicron’s purple anywhere. It remained to be seen if his natural paint job would be corrupted, but there was hope.

"Did everything go as expected?" Megatron asked.

Soundwave nodded.

Good.

Maybe it had gone smoothly, maybe it hadn't. However, Flash was happy and healthy and Megatron had had a chance to relax and recuperate some of his defrag debt.

It was fine — and this time Megatron believed it.

* * *

Knock Out was already in the mess, looking smug, when Megatron arrived with Flash. He was sitting with Bumblebee, who was looking disturbed, and Smokescreen, who was refusing to meet anyone's optics.

Megatron could guess what they were talking about — then Knock Out made a gesture that confirmed his theory — and took Flash and their energon to sit with Ultra Magnus instead.

"Megatron," Ultra Magnus greeted, then, with a slight lessening of his perpetual frown, "Flash."

"Hi, Ultra Magnus!"

Megatron nodded back and helped Flash with his cube. Most of the time, Flash was able to steady a cube and drink from it without much spillage, but every time Megatron got too confident about his progress and stopped watching him closely, the cube was inevitably upended over something important. Megatron was still finding energon on his console.

"I have been comparing notes of Iaconian curriculums with those from Vos, Praxus, and the ones I learnt in the military," Ultra Magnus said, thankfully not a mech for small talk. "I estimate that the first draft of a teaching schedule and lesson plan will be ready by the end of the week — sooner if I can find precise copies of the exact lesson plans used."

"How do the class sizes compare?" Megatron asked.

"Praxus had students numbering in the twenties per teacher whereas Iacon had more private tuition and two or three students at most," Ultra Magnus said. "At last count, there are nine individuals in our ranks in need of schooling, so I am confident we can teach them with minimal disruptions to our existing schedule."

"And there are still no signs of lesson notes from Kaon or Tetrahex?"

"As I understand it, Kaon relied mostly on oral teaching and Tetrahex's archives were completely destroyed." Magnus sounded upset over the lost data. "Perhaps when Iacon's record hall has been properly exhumed, we may find some second-hand sources."

No culturally significant schooling for Flash then. Megatron wished he could remember his first few weeks online better.

Soundwave entered the mess, excitement making him hurry more than usual. Only Megatron and Ultra Magnus paid him any attention.

"— _Megatron_—" Soundwave said with Shockwave's voice.

"You've located Shockwave's energy signature?"

Soundwave brought up a map on his visor.

"That's within the perimeter the Predacons have delineated as their territory," Ultra Magnus said. "We should call a strategy meeting to discuss the appropriate steps to take."

"I could just fly in. I'm more than a match for Predaking," Megatron said.

"We should listen to all proposed strategies before coming to a decision," Ultra Magnus refuted. "Soundwave, please schedule a meeting."

Something obscene flashed up on Soundwave's visor for a nano-second, before the day's schedule appeared and a new entry was added in red.

"Thank you, Soundwave."

Megatron was impressed. Ultra Magnus had yet to rise to any bait Soundwave had offered. But then he had spent a long time working with the Wreckers and if anything would make one overlook petty insubordination it was putting up with how juvenile they could be when they weren't decimating Decepticons in ways that would've sent Optimus into shock if he'd known.

Megatron decided not to intervene. They could deal with each other however they wanted, as long as he still had two functional, _competent_ lieutenants at the end of the day.

* * *

Having a meeting turned out to be a good idea. No sooner than Megatron had offered his plan of going solo and sparing the rest of them any difficulty, he received opposition from a source he hadn't expected.

"But Predaking said he'd kill you if he saw you again," Flash said. He'd followed Ultra Magnus in when he arrived early and got him talking long enough to avoid attention from anyone who might want to kick him out.

"And?" Megatron snorted. "Everyone in this room has tried to offline me several times."

"I haven't!" Flash said shrilly.

"Except you," Megatron amended. "I don't concern myself with worrying about people trying to kill me. I find it makes for strong alliances if we ever get past the attempted murder phase."

Flash turned sad optics on Knock Out, who cringed.

"Look, it was Starscream's idea," he said, desperately. "And I really thought he was going to kill _me_ the second time."

Megatron hadn't realised there had been a second time.

Flash sniffed. Maybe he shouldn’t have heard that his creators had considered deactivating each other, even if it had been well before his emergence.

"If we start talking about every time one of us tried to kill Megatron — and every time he tried to kill us right back — we'll never get anywhere," Bumblebee said. "We parted on neutral terms with Predaking, he should hear us out. Megatron, I don’t think you should be part of the diplomatic party."

"If we are to avoid seeming a threat, Wheeljack and I should also be absent," Ultra Magnus said. "As the previous Predacon clones were destroyed by our hand."

"And what if Predaking decides to restart hostilities?" Megatron said. "My armour can withstand Predacon fire, can yours?"

Soundwave let out a _ping_. A habit he’d had to employ more and more often as Autobots rarely noticed his small signals to indicate that he had something to share.

"Ground Bridges? That could be an easy way out," Arcee said, reading the schematics off Soundwave’s visor. "Though it could be taken badly if we open one right in front of Predaking."

"Take Laserbeak," Megatron said, "that way we will be able to easily monitor your attempts to have a civilised discussion and intervene if need be."

Bumblebee pointedly turned to Soundwave, reminding Megatron that he wasn't meant to be giving orders like that anymore. Old habits died hard.

"Would you be okay with that, Soundwave?"

Soundwave nodded and repeated. "— _take Laserbeak_ —"

Laserbeak detached and kited over to land on Bumblebee’s pauldron. The look of surprise on Bumblebee’s face was priceless.

"Can I go?" Flash asked. "I can hang on like Laserbeak."

"No," Knock Out said before Megatron could, "have you seen how filthy the Predacon hunting grounds are?"

"It won't be safe," Megatron said. "You'll stay here."

"But I want to go," Flash said stubbornly.

"And?" Megatron said.

"And I want to go!"

"You will stay here," Megatron said. "Be sensible."

Flash tried to argue more and, when Megatron still refused, left the meeting with Ultra Magnus and a glare at Megatron to make sure he knew it was a punishment.

It stung more than Megatron expected, but it didn't matter. They had reached the precipice. Shockwave had been found and soon Cybertron would be fixed.

Megatron and Flash would be fixed.

* * *

Megatron had foolishly felt like the matter was resolved and he wouldn't have to intercede in the Predacon situation. For once, he was unnecessary and it was good.

The feeling lasted until he dropped by Ultra Magnus's office and found it devoid of silver sparklings.

"Where is he?" Megatron clenched his fists.

"Flash told me he wanted to speak with you again shortly after we left," Ultra Magnus said. "It appears he was lying."

Megatron turned with a snarl and stomped toward the communications hub. Ultra Magnus followed. Megatron fought the urge to lay into him for letting Flash out of his sight, but that would only delay Flash's retrieval — not to mention that Flash was normally able to be trusted to cross the town by himself.

"Soundwave, make contact with the ‘diplomatic party’ and inform them they might have a stowaway," Megatron said over comms.

Knock Out emerged from the medbay, freshly buffed and humming happily to himself. The smile fell off his face when he spotted Megatron.

"What’s he done now?"

"Your sparkling has made himself a nuisance and tagged along with the mission. Again. Despite my orders," Megatron said.

"Your sparkling too," Knock Out said, managing to keep up despite his shorter legs. "Don’t try to blame his anti-authoritarian streak on _me_."

"I _know_ how many times you went joyriding when you were supposed to be on duty."

Knock Out waved his servo dismissively and darted ahead to duck into the comm hub before Megatron.

Soundwave turned to face them with a soundbite displayed on his screen.

"— _yeah, he's here_ —" Bumblebee's voice said through Soundwave's speakers. "— _we're already in the Predacon's area though, so don't send a Ground Bridge. Bulkhead will keep him out of the way_ —"

They were going to _keep_ Flash while talking to Predaking?! Megatron's HUD flashed up an error, reminding him to keep venting.

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," Knock Out said slowly.

"I am sure Bumblebee would not risk a sparkling's wellbeing," Ultra Magnus said, but he didn't sound certain — and from Ultra Magnus, mild uncertainty was tantamount to panicking.

Megatron snarled and threw the hub doors open. If no one else was going to do anything, _he_ would have to. The familiar feeling of _righteous_ anger swelled in his tanks.

He tried to ignore that voice that sounded like Optimus, pointing out that was how a multi-millennium war had started.

"Megatron, wait!" Ultra Magnus started.

"I’m not leaving Flash at the nonexistent mercy of a Predacon!" Megatron transformed and shot off before any further objections could be raised.

* * *

Megatron's scanners picked up a group of sparks. Flash was with them, his scrap of spark shining brighter to Megatron's creator protocols.

Megatron landed in root mode, intending to scoop Flash up and transform immediately. Something rammed him before he'd taken a full step.

Predaking.

They tumbled across the wastes. Megatron managed to dig his pedes in and toss Predaking off in a flail of wings.

"Get out of my way," Megatron snarled.

Predaking responded with a roar of flame. Hot enough to make Megatron's optics sting, even if his armour could take it. Megatron stumbled out of the blast, vision input blurry as his infrared sensors panicked under the heat.

Proximity sensors picked up Predaking's attack a split-second before it connected. Megatron was flung and hit the ground hard, leaving a gouge in the rock.

Megatron pushed himself to his pedes, angry at letting such an obvious blow past his guard. He'd spent too long pulling his punches. But now there was a real foe to face.

Predaking launched himself at Megatron again, but this time Megatron was ready for him and punched him in the head, sending his smooth flight into an ungainly sprawl. No time to let him recover. Megatron grabbed a handful of Predaking's long throat, digging his claws in as deep as he could.

The plating began to glow under Megatron's servo. He twisted his claws.

"I wouldn't do that," Megatron growled. "Unless you want your throat ripped out."

Predaking roared. He couldn't speak in dragon mode, but the threat and demand could be read in every line of his frame.

He swung his tail. Megatron braced and caught it. The blades flared out uselessly. Then Predaking's wing slammed into Megatron at full force.

Megatron fell back, dripping more than a little Predacon energon from his claws. Predaking had too many limbs to hold down easily. Megatron was being sloppy again. Perhaps he should go for the kill and be done with this whole farce — no peace could be made with such beasts.

"No!"

Something small and silver launched itself at Predaking. Megatron's intake stalled, combat protocols sharply rerouted into protective creator subroutines.

"Flash!"

Predaking shook his head, annoyed, trying to dislodge the sparkling clamped onto his snout.

Megatron charged with a roar.

He was tackled from the side by an Autobot before he could engage. Bulkhead slammed Megatron into the ground. Megatron kicked him off and sprung to his pedes.

A blur of blue hit Predaking. Arcee separated sparkling from beast and flipped back, stumbling on the landing because she hadn't accounted for how heavy Flash had gotten recently. Laserbeak ran distraction, keeping Predaking's attention off Flash.

Megatron rushed over and scooped Flash up, reassured by the thrum of a tiny engine and a spark pulse. He turned back to Predaking, keeping Flash angled away from the threat.

Bumblebee placed himself between Megatron and a freshly-transformed Predaking, holding a servo out to each like he was trying to tame an unruly beast. Megatron's oil burned hot and it was only the tiny scrap of sparkling in his arms that kept him from rejoining the fray.

"That's enough," Bumblebee said firmly. "No more fighting. We don't need to fight. We're just here to ask a few questions."

"You ask a _mech_ questions," Megatron snarled. "Not a beast."

"No!" Bumblebee snapped. "That's not how this goes!"

Finally stepping up after all. Optimus would be _so_ proud, Megatron thought bitterly.

"Megatron, take Flash and go," Bumblebee said. "Predaking, let them leave. We can work this out."

"You would claim that he does not fight for you?" Predaking said. "After you dared to approach me empty-handed and with a _sparkling_ in your cohort."

Like they didn't consider him a threat. How like the Pits of Kaon.

The high-caste really had considered gladiator-caste to be no better than beasts. All those rites the managers had insisted were purely for show, yet another way to subjugate those who didn't know better and further the divide between gladiator-caste and civilians.

Thank goodness for those like Orion Pax, who had shown Megatron how the mid-castes did things.

"You have had your fight. We will leave," Megatron said, trying to keep the threat in his voice and not let his fear of Flash being harmed show. "With Shockwave too."

"Shockwave goes nowhere," Predaking said. "His previous work on my kind was… incomplete. He will stay here until he rectifies the matter."

"Incomplete, how?" Bulkhead asked.

"We've got doctors," Bumblebee offered. "I bet if Shockwave messed something up, they can fix it."

Megatron barely held back a snort. Yes, they had doctors, but it was unlikely that either of them would be happy to work on a Predacon.

"Doctors that have the resources to install the ability to carry? I think not," Predaking said. "Shockwave is cloning gestation tanks for us and fixing the coding he left to make us incapable of reproducing."

"By choice?" Bumblebee asked. "Shockwave's choosing to be here, right?"

"If he wanted a choice he should have made us complete from the start," Predaking snarled. "What was the point in giving us means to copulate with reproducing?"

It was more of a surprise to Megatron that Shockwave had included interface arrays on his pet projects, given his own lack of intimate parts to allow for more firepower in his frame. But then, the only thing worse than a creature with a sex-drive and an array was a creature with a sex-drive and _no_ array. The prototype stage of Vehicon construction had thoroughly proven that.

"So what?" Megatron said. "The Vehicons don't have gestation tanks either. Pick through the Allspark's leavings if you want your own sparklings so much."

"They would not be Predacon," Predaking snarled.

"And Flash isn't going to be a car, from what Ratchet says," Bumblebee said. "Do you think Knock Out loves him any less?"

Megatron clutched Flash tighter when Predaking's gaze returned to them.

"Spark-strike and coding matter," Predaking said darkly. "Can a car learn to hunt? Does a jet breathe flame? I will have sparklings of my own, _not_ of the Well."

"Then have n—" Megatron started.

Bumblebee coughed. "I think we can handle it from here," he said pointedly. "Why don't you take Flash back to town?"

A sensible suggestion. Flash's presence here was only a distraction and it was putting Megatron on edge.

"Yes, run away," Predaking mocked, "just like your coward of a second."

Megatron stopped, half a second away from transforming. Slag it, he needed to know.

"What did you do to Starscream?" Megatron asked slowly, mindful of the sparkling in his arms to make too overt a threat.

"Nothing more than he deserved," Predaking said. "I suspect he's rust by now if he hasn't managed to crawl back to you yet."

"He escaped you." Megatron laughed, more elated than he expected. He never wanted to lay optics on his former second in command again, but knowing he was just as difficult to snuff for their mutual enemies was heartening.

"So he's alive?" Bumblebee said.

"That's an awful lot of Decepticons around," Smokescreen muttered. Bumblebee shushed him.

If Starscream did show up again and the Predacons had harmed him, Predaking's murder would go a long way to mending their utterly destroyed relationship. If Megatron was going to be sensible, he'd end Predaking here and now, to free Shockwave and make the first step to getting Starscream on their side again.

However, Megatron didn't want to keep settling things with violence and intimidation in front of Flash and if he stayed and listened to Predaking's taunts he _would_ resort to violence. The Autobots had promised to fix things with diplomacy and, until they failed, Megatron _wanted_ to keep faith in them.

They had trusted him this far, it was only fair that he tried to give them the same courtesy.

* * *

Megatron flipped out of vehicle mode and landed on the roof of the half-built communications tower. Flash laughed out loud.

"Again!"

"That’s enough for today." Megatron put the sparkling down.

Flash whined, but sat down next to Megatron once he dropped to the scaffolding. The moons were bright in the early evening.

Even as a ruin, Cybertron was beautiful. After thousands of years away, Megatron never wanted to leave again.

"Why did you follow Bumblebee and the others into the Redacon hunting grounds?" Megatron asked, hoping that there had been a good reason.

Flash shrugged. "Wanted to see things."

Megatron ex-vented harshly and tried to remember what he'd seen of Optimus disciplining his team — Megatron's own methods were far too harsh for a sparkling.

Questions first, reprimands later, and, if that hadn't been enough, punishment _last_.

Easier to keep in mind when fear and anger weren't clouding Megatron's emotional processors.

"Didn't you hear me when I said it was dangerous?" Megatron managed to keep his voice steady.

He wanted to rage, it would be so _easy_ to rage. Yet he could hold himself back with little effort compared to how it used to be. He _wanted_ to stay calm and, for the first time in centuries, didn't fall prey to the unquenchable anger deep in his tanks.

Megatron wanted to hold this strange tranquillity forever. It wouldn't — couldn't — last, but it was heartening to know that peace was working, even for him.

"You say lots of things are dangerous when they're not really," Flash said. "Like playing lob-ball. Or going to Earth."

"Just because you survived, it doesn't mean it wasn't dangerous," Megatron said. "Predaking is my enemy and you are my sparkling. What if he hurt you?"

"But he didn't. You were there."

Megatron ex-vented slowly. "And if I hadn't gone to ask Ultra Magnus about recent archival access and noticed you were missing? I will not always be there to protect you."

Flash frowned. "But you _are_ always there."

"Because you are young and need protection," Megatron said. "Part of growing up is learning to fend for yourself. I have enemies beyond counting and while I do not fear my deactivation at their hands, I am —" he swallowed, intake choking, "I am _terrified_ to think that you might end up hurt by them. It's galling to see you put your spark at risk for something so inconsequential."

"You said I shouldn’t quail before Unicron," Flash said. "If I wasn’t allowed to be scared about him, why do you get to be scared about me?"

"You remember that?"

"They were the first words I really understood." Flash grinned brightly. He looked like Knock Out when he smiled like that. "It was all dark and cold and scary, and Unicron was being nasty, and you were there too. I was really scared and Unicron was all shouty, but then you spoke. You said —" he deepened his squeaky voice comically to imitate Megatron, "— ‘You were struck from my spark and you will not quail before so small a god!’ and then I wasn’t scared anymore."

Megatron had spoken to many mechs over the years, swaying thousands to his cause, but his words to Flash now felt more real than anything else he’d ever said.

He'd only said the words to goad Unicron, to keep the god's attention on him and away from the tiny defenceless — possibly imaginary — sparkling who'd been unwillingly swept up in Megatron's mess. There had been a strut-deep glee at getting a rise out of Unicron through the only defiance he had left.

Flash leant in and whispered. "Sometimes when I get scared of the dark or lost or Knock Out is trying to catch me for cleaning, I say that to myself again and I’m not scared anymore."

"Why?"

"Because I know you’ll protect me." Flash grinned. "You should try it too."

The innocence of sparklings. Something in Megatron’s spark chamber hurt.

"But who will protect me?" Megatron asked.

Flash frowned, likely he hadn’t thought of that. Then he stood up and put his servos on his hips.

"I will!" he declared. "I helped against Predaking!"

Megatron laughed. It was that or give in to the ache in his spark. Flash pouted and Megatron dragged him into a hug.

"We’ll have to get you trained up first, my brave little warrior," Megatron said. "And get it through your thick helm that you shouldn't wander off whenever it suits you."

Flash squirmed.

"So are you gonna say the words? You’ve gotta say them or they don’t work."

It had already worked. A dam had burst and Megatron had never felt so light or free. He held his sparkling tighter and spoke along with him, vocaliser cracking embarrassingly with emotion.

Megatron wasn't Breakdown, and Knock Out was no Optimus Prime, but maybe they could forge something new. Together.

Or perhaps, Megatron realised, looking at Flash held tight in his arms, they already had and it was just time to admit it.

* * *

"Knock Out."

Knock Out was polishing his tools in the medbay — likely because he didn’t have Flash to shine up — and gave Megatron a tired smile when he entered.

"Is Flash safe? Where is he?"

"He’s with Smokescreen," Megatron replied, making sure the doors were locked behind him.

It was likely that Flash would be over-tired tomorrow — Smokescreen too — however, it was good for him and Megatron to interact more with Autobots he was trying to build a lasting peace with. Smokescreen often matched the responsibility he was given — plus Megatron had asked Ultra Magnus to check in on them a few times to ensure they weren’t doing anything _too_ ridiculous.

Knock Out raised an optic ridge. "Oh?"

"I believe it’s long past time that I tried pursuing you."

Knock Out put down his tool and polishing cloth. He gave Megatron a long look and folded his arms.

"I _have_ put most of the work in, haven’t I?" Knock Out said.

Megatron approached Knock Out and went down on one knee. He was still taller than Knock Out, even like this, but he hoped the sentiment was appreciated. "I didn't have to give chase, but now I want to and I feel I must say my part before it is too late."

"This…" Knock Out was looking wary, trapped, which hadn’t been Megatron’s intent. "This isn’t a bonding proposal, is it?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

Knock Out visibly relaxed.

"No reason." Likely a human mannerism he'd picked up. Of course, he wouldn't know gladiator rites — he'd never picked up on the significance behind the scars on Megatron's faceplates. "Carry on."

"Knock Out." Megatron took one of his servos and took a moment to decide where to begin. "This relationship started as a convenience, however, I find myself wanting more. Everything about you calls to me. The most valuable mech on this planet and I would have you be mine."

"I'm not high-caste, or even mid-caste," Knock Out said, like he couldn't believe Megatron didn't already know that.

"The caste system is dead by my hand," Megatron said. "Whatever you once were, doesn't change the fact that you are a stunning piece of machinery and a skilled surgeon. You have a place in this burgeoning peace." He forced himself to finish, "Moreso than I."

Kaon had rewarded power and nothing else. In public, strength was everything. But in private, in intimate moments, showing vulnerability was a display of trust. One that Megatron had never needed before.

"You're a good creator," Knock Out said. "You're better with Flash than any Autobot."

"And I hope to be a better mate to you than any Autobot."

The corner of Knock Out's mouth curled up, but he didn't pull away. "You caught me, I'm not running off with anyone else."

Megatron took his other servo out from behind his back, feeling foolish that he didn't have a deactivated spark chamber in his claws. Instead, he offered a messily wrapped bundle to Knock Out, unaccountably nervous in a way he hadn't been since his second meeting with Orion Pax.

"What's… oh." Knock Out opened the bundle and his optics went soft. "Thank you."

Slices of haematite had been the way to go after all. Polish would probably have been better — if Megatron had been able to find any and also managed to confirm what the _right_ kind of polish was. However, Megatron read the weekly inventory lists Soundwave put together and knew which supplies had been favoured by Knock Out.

The part of him that was forged and raised in Kaon was still struggling with the lack of spilt energon in his claiming. He'd have to content himself with this softer approach for now.

"This pursuing… wouldn't happen to have immediate benefits, would it?" Knock Out asked, with a sly smile and a cocked hip.

A softer, more _intimate_ approach.

"If you insist."

Megatron slid his servos between Knock Out's thighs, cupped his aft, then lifted him bodily until he was optics to interface array. Knock Out's vents hitched in arousal.

"Nice and _strong_," Knock Out said warmly. Then sharply, "_No_" like he always did, when Megatron licked over the panel covering his spike, "valve only."

Megatron tilted his helm further back and shifted Knock Out's array closer. The sharp, electric scent of a ready valve was hot through his panels.

Knock Out wanted this as much as Megatron did. It was a heady thought.

It only took one nudge against the panel to have it slide back and expose Knock Out's valve. Lubricant smeared on Megatron's faceplates as he nuzzled close, enjoying the sensation of soft mesh.

He licked, glossa diving in deep to taste lubricant and warm static. Knock Out made a noise of pure pleasure and his light, automobile engine gave a _vrumm_.

"Oh, _yes_."

Megatron took his time. He could have this — he _had_ this — and he was going to savour it.

Megatron licked up, covering Knock Out's entire array again. There was a whisper-quiet _click_ and, though nothing moved, the still-closed panel under Megatron's glossa was looser.

"Do you really want my spike?" Knock Out asked.

Megatron nodded as best he could with racer thighs clamped tight around his helm.

"Alright," Knock Out said. "But if you bite me I'm filing those fangs down."

Megatron growled — he had control over his jaw!

"_Oh!_" Knock Out bucked against Megatron's face. "You're not giving me much incentive to switch, you know."

Despite his words, Knock Out opened his panel and let his spike pressurise. A pretty little red thing that matched its owner perfectly. Red strips of biolights, barely a shade lighter than the paint, ran from base to tip, mirroring his valve and lazily pulsing with interest.

Megatron pulled Knock Out back to take in his entire array. Such a lovely little doctor. Megatron licked his lips, tasting lubricant.

"Well?" Knock Out said impatiently, though Megatron could detect a hint of nervousness.

"I've never known a mech as stunning as you." Megatron licked up Knock Out's spike, then took it into his mouth.

It tasted of polish. Somehow Megatron wasn't surprised. He swirled his glossa around the tip, stripping the layers of wax until he could taste nothing but hot steel and living metal.

"I don't want a spike overload," Knock Out said, voice tight.

Megatron hummed in agreement. That just made this easier. With a bit of a nudge, Megatron could take Knock Out's whole spike and flatten his glossa against the entire length.

It was unusual for mechs to not like getting their spikes sucked — pleasure bots in the Pits had always gotten away with charging more for that particular service — but the little twitches of Knock Out's hips suggested that he was enjoying Megatron's performance.

Just disliked the overload then. An easy thing to work around.

Knock Out's last — and only — attempt at blowing Megatron had ended because Megatron had held him down. Megatron processor brought up an image of Knock Out on his knees, pretty mouth on Megatron's spike, and Megatron's servos bound behind him in implicit promise not to touch.

Megatron's engine revved at the thought and Knock Out twitched with a thready moan.

Something to pursue another time.

Megatron gave one last suck then pulled off and shifted back to lap at Knock Out’s valve. There was no mistaking the way the tension seeped out of Knock Out’s back struts as Megatron employed his glossa where it was clearly wanted most.

Soft and hot and — despite Knock Out's hesitation at the prospect of Megatron's mouth on his spike — even wetter than before. Megatron licked deep, feeling thick, strong callipers beneath the metal mesh. There was very little better than seeing and hearing a mech come undone from Megatron's glossa alone. Anyone could fight, but Megatron prided himself for being more than a sword.

He traced Knock Out's biolights, strips of glowing lava against the hot mesh. Taking them one at a time until he reached the one that pulsed over Knock Out's anterior node. That he gave a few quick flicks of his glossa before setting into the long, flat swipes that Knock Out enjoyed so much.

Knock Out was so, so pretty and so easily held in place. All smooth polished metal and dangerous edges. Beauty. Surgeon. Decepticon.

And this amazing mech had said _yes_ to Megatron: the loser of an interplanetary war.

Sharp claw tips grabbed the jutting horns on Megatron's helm and dug in. Knock Out's optics were bright as Megatron pressed his tongue flat and growled into his valve again.

"Your spike. In me. _Now!_"

Megatron released his spike and lowered an impatient Knock Out onto it. Knock Out arched as he pressed in, then overloaded suddenly once Megatron got as deep as he could and revved hard, thick spike base stretching Knock Out’s perfect valve.

"Oh," Knock Out panted against Megatron’s chest. "Oh, that was _good_. I’ve been meaning to ask, where did you learn to eat valve like that?"

"Back in my gladiatorial days." Megatron shifted Knock Out into an easier hold, enjoying the way Knock Out’s callipers squeezed to keep him inside. "Soundwave was quite demanding back then."

"_Soundwave?!_"

Megatron laughed. "Hardly. I don’t remember the designations now."

"I’m going to get you back for that," Knock Out threatened, optics narrowed.

"I look forward to it." Megatron grinned. Knock Out's valve was still tingling with charge around his spike. "Another? How do you want it?"

"On the slab. You behind me," Knock Out demanded.

Megatron took two steps to close the distance and managed to turn Knock Out around without fully pulling out.

"Nice trick." Knock Out smirked over his shoulder. "Going to show me what else you’ve got, big guy?"

Megatron grabbed the medical slab hard enough to dent the edges near Knock Out’s helm. Knock Out’s optics brightened, then closed as Megatron started fragging him, hard.

Knock Out was right, this was what Megatron had been missing. Just because he was working towards peace, it didn’t mean he had to be gentle in every aspect of his existence. He didn’t have to dominate completely, but he didn’t have to submit entirely either.

And, for now, he could enjoy fragging a pretty little mech who fit his spike _perfectly_.

Knock Out snorted. Megatron blinked at him, then thrust harder, making him moan instead.

"Is there something you find funny?"

"Just that — oh, that's the spot — just that Ultra Magnus is — yes — going to write me up for interfacing in — _oh, yes_ — interfacing in the medbay again," Knock Out said. "Apparently it's a safety risk and as the only medic around I should ‘be more responsible’. No, don't stop."

"Don't imitate an Autobot when I'm fragging you," Megatron said, taking a moment to appreciate the view of Knock Out's stretched open valve before sliding back in. "Did you tell him, or are Autobots just voyeurs?"

"I didn't have to tell him." Knock Out clenched his callipers. "My walking cycle takes a while to go back to normal after a good frag, you know."

Megatron knew. It fed the possessive part of him to see such proof that he'd had Knock Out on his spike. That a mech as beautiful as Knock Out had chosen _Megatron's_ berth.

"Oh, you _like_ that." Knock Out threw a smug look over his shoulder. "Want me to tell you more? Like how Arcee spotted the marks I left on your berth? Or how Smokescreen didn't know where to look when I asked him to buff out the scratches on my back?"

Megatron saw no point in denying any of it.

"You're stunning," he said simply. "Any mech would be grateful to have you. I enjoy victory and fragging you is a great one indeed."

"Oh," Knock Out moaned. Something pricked the base of Megatron’s spike and he realised Knock Out’s servo was busy underneath him, sharp claw tips losing their usual dexterity as Knock Out approached his climax.

Megatron leant forward so his mouth was next to Knock Out’s audial and lowered the register of his vocaliser to hit the rough notes that always got him the slickest valve. "Such a pretty little thing and all _mine_."

Knock Out gasped and overloaded again, valve clenching _tight_ and electric on Megatron's spike. It only took a few more thrusts for Megatron to follow him over the edge.

They lay there, half on the slab, vents mingling.

"You need to stop cheating," Knock Out said, but no amount of fake annoyance in his voice could overcome the brilliance of his afterglow. His headlights were pulsing dimly in time with his vents.

"Decepticon," Megatron said, sinking his fangs into Knock Out's tyre and chewing the malleable rubber.

Knock Out shivered. "You're going to give me a flat."

"Perhaps I want you fragged so hard you limp in vehicle mode too?"

Knock Out chuckled and batted at Megatron until he pulled out and helped Knock Out to his pedes.

"Mmm," Knock Out hummed as he stretched. "Worth the disciplinary write-up."

Would a true mate offer to intervene? Megatron didn’t want to talk to Ultra Magnus about interface, so decided the answer was _no_.

There was something else he could offer, however, something that Knock Out would probably appreciate more. Something that had been niggling Megatron’s processor since he had decided once and for all that he was going to make Knock Out _his_.

"I would like to try being restrained again," Megatron said.

"You would?" Knock Out said eagerly. He forced his expression back to something more neutral and cleared his intake. "I'm sure we can work something out if that's really what you want."

His optics were still bright with excitement. Megatron bent over to steal a kiss.

"It is," Megatron growled.

It wasn’t what he looked for in an interface partner, but indulging his lovers was something Megatron enjoyed — the lovers he’d liked, at any rate. To have a pretty mech doing what they loved most and bringing Megatron along for the ride — that always led to the best overloads.

And he had enjoyed Knock Out’s previous attempts at bondage more than he thought he would.

"I'm not up for a third right now," Knock Out said, sounding severely disappointed.

"How about a drive?"

Knock Out blinked, a flurry of emotions crossing his faceplates.

"Unless you’ve made a trip to Earth I wasn’t aware of, you still don’t have wheels," he said slowly.

"I can match your speed from the air," Megatron promised. "Cybertron deserves to be seen and I would like to watch you race."

"I _do_ look good on the track," Knock Out said confidently.

Megatron held out his servo.

"I want you," he said. "Every part of you, including the racer."

"You caught me," Knock Out said again, significantly, like it meant something. He took Megatron’s servo. "But don’t stop chasing."

* * *

Glowing blue cybermatter filled the makeshift Omega Lock. It washed over everyone, brightening all the Autobots’ optics.

Flash watched the Omega Lock work with wide optics from Megatron’s side, servo held tight. His paint had come in a vivid scarlet, with unfortunate purple highlights. They would fix it, Megatron would offline again before he would let Unicron win here.

Shockwave stepped back from the controls.

"The Omega Lock is ready to fire, Megatron."

Megatron stepped forward, tugging Flash with him. All it would take was a press of a switch and they could rebuild Kaon. Vos. _Tetrahex_. The future of Cybertron was here.

And it would not be rebuilt by Megatron’s hand alone.

"Bumblebee," Megatron said.

Bumblebee stepped up, determination on his face, the likes of which Megatron had not seen since the then-scout had run him through with the Star Sabre. He gave Megatron a nod.

Optimus would be sickeningly proud. It was a peaceful thought for once.

"Together?"

"For Cybertron."

Together, they touched the screen. The Omega Lock glowed brighter and arced cybermatter into the distance. The very ground beneath their pedes shook, as Cybertron began to rebuild, with both Autobot and Decepticon working together toward a better future.

_Cybertronians_ once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi over at [transformersvn.tumblr.com](https://transformersvn.tumblr.com) where I make Transformers visual novels.


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